Ivan

My midwife who came to the hospital to help coach me as I delivered Ivan just emailed me what she wrote during the experience.  I will treasure her words forever.  Ivan's life was so short that I can't help but hang on to and treasure every little thing surrounding him.

It is 11:22 on Thursday, February 28th.  Alana and Brandon have 
been up all night awaiting little Ivan's arrival.  She was a small 9 cm 
at last exam about 20 minutes ago and she was delighted at the news that
 her baby will soon be here.  The labor has been unique due to the size 
and shape of our little precious package from Heaven who is soon to 
arrive and stay as long as he would like to.  Alana has cherished every 
sign of life for the past 9 1/2 months and also during this labor.  
Ivan's heartbeat has slowed in the past few days and this morning 
counted at 95-100 bpm.  
 
The spirit is strong in this hospital room, and becomes progressively stronger as the birth nears.
 
It is 11:29 and the nurse, Sharlene now feels no cervix at all.
 
Little Ivan was born at 11:50.  Alana did it all naturally. 
 
It
 is now 12:26. Ivan is full of life.  He is making the cutest noises and
 even sounds now like he is trying to cry.  He is moving around and 
opening his eyes.  Alana keeps expressing how happy she is and how much 
Ivan looks just like she imagined she would.  She is so worried about 
keeping him warm.  She is so protective in every way.  All the 
photography and fluff means nothing to her.  She is not thinking about 
mortality but seems to be in a spiritual world with her Ivan, cherishing
 every second, every baby sound and movement. The spirit is so strong 
that no one can contain their tears of joy.  There is no reason to be 
sad right now because it all feels so good and right.  Heavenly Father 
is aware of this family.  There is so much love in this room. I feel so 
blessed to be here.
 
13:28 Ivan is still full of life.  Because 
it seems like he will live for awhile, Alana and Brandon decide to give 
Anika the chance to come and meet her little brother.  Alana asked if he
 could be washed off so the blood won't upset Anika.  Alana is so 
concerned for Anika and making this easy on her.  Sharlene suggests he 
be washed over under the warmer.  Alana is reluctant to give him up but 
doesn't want him to get cold.  Shar asked if she could weigh him while 
she had him and Alana said ok.  He weighs 3 lbs 4 1/2 oz and is 14" 
long.  
 
Ivin tolerates the bath well but after it, his breathing
 began to change and become gasps.  I wanted to get him back quickly 
into his mothers arms.  As soon as she came out of the bathroom, I 
bundled him up in his blanket and brought him back to her.  Alana  
Noticed his labored breathing and began to cry, saying she should have 
kept him with her.  I tried to assure her and she asked to be left alone
 with him.
 
Just after I walked out, I was relieved to see Brandon returning to the room to be with his family.
 
I went down to the cafeteria while Ivin passed into the spirit world.
 
When
 I was invited back into the room, I was hit by the awareness of a very 
strong spiritual presence.  The crowd that was present at the birth was 
gone and only Brandon and Alana remained, cuddling with Ivan's lifeless 
tiny body.
 
I stayed and talked for a few minutes, then felt I 
should leave.  We exchanged hugs and I left the room, stopping at the 
nurses station to thank them for their kindness and good care.
 
At
 home I could do nothing but sit on the couch and contemplate the 
experience I had just had that day.  I couldn't return to my worldly 
tasks.  I had to hold onto the Spirit that I felt, my gift from Ivan and
 from his parents for which I was most grateful.  I sat there and 
allowed the Spirit to enlighten me as I recalled the events and feelings
 of that day.  I felt practically every emotion: i.e. HUMILITY - in 
knowing that I was invited to participate in this great event while 
grandmothers sat at home, feeling somewhat unworthy of the task, FAITH -
 in the Lord that he would help me say and do helpful things, SYMPATHY -
 for the emotional and physical pain, HOPE - that he would be born 
alive, GRATITUDE for every moment of his life and for the knowledge we 
have of the gospel, JOY - in every breath, sound, and movement and in 
the joy of his parents at the same. SADNESS - as I watched his spirit 
slipping away, LOVE- for this little twisted and deformed person with a 
perfect spirit who was too special to remain on Earth, and for his 
parents whom I had had the privilege of serving, and for my Heavenly 
Father. 

Gravity

My flesh feels heavy.  Sometimes it's so hard to drag myself out of bed to fight again.  On my way to  yoga in the morning, my mind always thinks of the Beastie Boys song Fight For Your Right.  I've gotta fight.  For my right.  To party.  I can't give up.  My feet are on shaky ground but one day I hope to get it right. 

It's so dark in the morning and my mind is aware that this earth is literally hell.  It's the darkness.  It's the heaviness of my flesh, my corruption.  The fight.

The sound of my breath this morning was mournful.  The only thing I could feel was my body moving through grief.  It felt like moving through mashed potatoes.  The fear is even  heavier than the grief.  The 'what-ifs' I can never speak out loud for fear.

I meditate on the heaviness.  On my flesh being glued to the earth.  When there's light inside me, this heaviness feels more like the earth cradling me.  But it  frequently feels like extra gravity, like this hell-planet got bigger and it's gluing me to its surface. 

Once again, I turn my awareness inward to see what my soul says (as if I don't know what it will say) and once again it says, "You need God, dummy.  You need grace, dummy."

Untitled

It's weird to realize you're changing.  Or have changed.  In ways you didn't expect.  I don't think I feel things anymore.  I feel fear.  I still feel love.  Especially for my kids so that's a good sign.

 I never know if I want to keep my thoughts private or share them.  Lately, I keep feelings and thoughts private.  It's not to protect myself from criticism, I don't think.  Unless it would be from my Mother but I would never let her know this blog existed.  I get enough scrutiny from her just by petting the dog wrong.  No, if I had to pinpoint why I've dropped off the planet, it's because I've been giving up.  I've in lots of ways surrendered to the loneliness.  I'm lonely in my grief.  That's just the human experience.  I think most are lonely in their grief and deeply hurting so that's not unique.  I'm extraordinarily lonely in my marriage.  I'm so grateful for the stable figure he is.  And his goodness.  And I would never wreck it.  But there is no companionship.  Brandon is not neurotypical.  No one but me wants to see it or admit it.  There is no getting around our impasse.  Of that I'm sure.  And I've been grieving that realization for a few years now.  I always feel like one of us is a ghost.  I don't know who, though.  I'm not seen.  Or I'm talking to myself.

I'm not sure if it's helpful or not to air these grievances.  I feel like somehow typing this means I'm not totally isolated.  But I don't want to do harm or focus on the negative.

The only thing that fixes these feelings is the Holy Ghost.  It fills that empty spot.  That grieving spot.  But I'm to apathetic to seek its companionship.  You know that takes effort, right?  Reading, praying, serving, begging God for charity, that pure love that's promised to us.  I know how to fix it.  But I'm too lazy.  Each night I say no I don't feel like seeking the Spirit.  I'll just watch TV and eat chips.  Yesterday, God reached down from the sky with a message for me, even though I'd done nothing to commune with His spirit.  He said I should seek the spirit out of obedience and submission, not because I particularly felt like it.  Revelation.

I have a sense my gifts are needed.  I can be a blessing to others.

The companionship of the Holy Ghost cures what ails you.

First the justification.

Now the SANCTIFICATION.

The Holy Ghost gives me love for my husband. 

Every time during my yoga meditation, I feel the same thing.  Every single time.  The second I still myself and turn my gaze inward and really see myself, I feel the same thing.  It isn't subtle, either.  It comes powerfully.  It makes my stomach double over and tears form in my eyes.  Want to know what it is?  It's a homesickness.  A very powerful yearning, yearning, yearning to be close to God.  To approach God.  To feel God.  I know how to approach Him.  I know how to seek the Spirit.  So why do I resist it so much?

 "They are as a wild flock which fleeth from the shepherd".