The Whirlwind

We said we would stay in the US for a month after the baby came, thinking that would give us plenty of time; but here we are, packing our bags, with just a handful of days left before we fly home and I'm in awe it's that time already.  Wasn't Leo was just born?

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind, a roller coaster, a dizzying swirl of emotions, recovery, logistics, and preparations for returning to our lives in Uganda.  The days and nights have blurred together.  I've sobbed at the hardships of breastfeeding and wept at the beauty of it.  I've faced the highs and lows that come with postpartum and learned what feels like a million life lessons.  Suddenly Leo has gained a full pound and he's changed so much since he was born!  I already want to tell him to stop growing up, to remain my little peanut forever.

Life moves on and we must, too.  That date on our plane tickets is edging closer and the transition back to our life in Uganda is unavoidable.  The biggest lesson of it all might be to revel in each moment and soak it all in - the hard and the beautiful - or else this whirlwind might just take me over.

*I'm absolutely in love with these photos of Leo and our family by Ashley Sommer Photography.  Enjoy!*

Our son, Leo.

Leo Walker Kreutter
Born May 12, 2015
8 lbs. 2 oz.     21.5 inches long

Leo because lion is a symbol of courage, strength, and bravery.  Courage comes from coeur, meaning heart.  May he always find the courage to listen to his heart and the strength and bravery required to follow it.

During labor, his low heart rate required a transfer from home to the hospital, but it quickly resolved itself and all turned out well.  Even coming into this world, he is Leo the Lionhearted.

The day of birth and the few following days were some of the hardest of my life, but also some of the most empowering.  Now we are slowly figuring out this dance of life together, the three of us learning each others' cues - when to lead, when to fall in step.  And the oxytocin, the love hormone, works its magic.

This beautiful poem really got me.  I still can't make it through without crying:

SELFLESSNESS

A mother who gives herself
completely to her infant meets
herself in the dark and finds
fulfillment.

In the hours between midnight
and dawn, she crosses the
threshold of self-concern and
discovers a Self that has no limits.
A wise mother meets this
Presence with humility and steps
through time into selflessness.
Infants know when their mothers have
done this, and they become peaceful.

Who, then, is the doer? Is it the infant
who brings its mother through the veil
of self-concern into limitlessness?  Is it
the mother, who chooses to hold
sacred her infant's needs and
surrender herself?  Or is it the
One, which weaves them both
through a spiraling path
toward wholeness?

From an incredibly beautiful book, The Tao of Motherhood, by Vimala McClure

 

And another great poem by my husband about this tiny new life. 

Maternity pictures

We've wanted to take my maternity photos for quite some time, but the skies have been grey and cloudy in our neck of the woods, day after day, when the sun was setting, so we kept postponing it until we could get that ideal soft, glowy light.  I wouldn't advise other women to wait until their 39th week to take maternity pictures.  Of course, there's that risk of not even making it to 39 weeks and then if you do, you just might feel so fat and swollen, the last thing you want to do is pose for the camera.

But then again, maybe doing my hair, and putting on makeup, and wearing a dress made me step out of my self-pity and into embracing the beauty of late pregnancy, as least for one evening.  Pregnancy has been such a paradox for me.  One day I feel so disconnected with my body and I have no idea what it's doing and the next I feel beautiful and in awe of what this body of mine is capable of.  Unfortunately, our culture seems to tell only one side of this narrative, focusing so much on the negative and "gross" parts of pregnancy.  If you tell a friend how much you love your body or that you actually like parts about being pregnant, you're likely to get an eye roll or a stare of unbelief.  This is why I love the trend of maternity photos in our generation.  They can make us appreciate the beauty of this whole process and the incredible power of our bodies.  It's a great way to bring about the other, positive side of the pregnancy narrative.

So even though I'm at 39 weeks, my toes look like baby sausages, by body is puffy all over, and I feel more immobile than ever, I'm still thankful that I can look at these pictures and see myself as beautiful.

A big shout-out to my husband, Eric Kreutter, for taking these photos, for having lots of patience, and for making me feel beautiful when I am all too self-critical.

P.S. I thought about posting a bloopers reel of really bad photos, but decided not to do that to myself.  There is a reason photographers go through the photos themselves and choose the best ones to show you.  Maybe some day I'll pull them out for a good self-deprecating laugh, but I'm just going to stick with the positive for now.

Edit: Ok, Eric talked me into posting just one blooper, totally unedited.  Enjoy.

maternity blooper

Nesting

I promised myself that I would take my pregnancy as a time to rest and as an opportunity to reflect more on my inner life; but looking back at the last 7 months, this baby has been in 8 countries and 11 US states in utero, a great indication that my intention for rest has certainly not been achieved.

But last week, I arrived at my Hoosier home, my final stopping place before little Toto*, our baby, makes an appearance in this world.  There is a cabin next to my parents' house, filled with the cabinets and furniture from my grandparents' old home, stocked with their dishes, and decorated with my grandmother's quilts and pictures of my extended family. 

Upon arrival at home, I began unpacking my things and nesting in this cozy place.  I now spend my mornings in quiet meditation, looking out at pond, now frozen, where I spent so much of my childhood.  In the evenings, I knit by the fireplace while listening to a podcast or audiobook.  I have no internet or television and I like it this way.  Finally, I'm getting the rest I've promised myself from the beginning.

This place symbolizes family and heritage for me.  It gives me a sense of grounding in my life that is literally all over the place; it is, to me, a place where I take off my wings and I feel my roots.  This is where I will stay for the next 3 months, where Eric will soon join me to await Toto's birth, and this will be the very place where Toto is welcomed into our family.

 
 
 
 

*Toto means "baby" in Swahili.  It is the name we've chosen to refer to our unborn baby, since we've decided not to know the gender.

The End of Life as I Know It

Today is the end of my life as I know it in our cozy house in a Kampala suburb.  We depart in a few hours for America and when I come back in about 5 months, our lives will have changed in a major way with a little new addition to our family.

The last few weeks, between our return from India and our departure for the US, have been full of logistical planning, home improvements, and preparing for our leave at work.  But it's also been full of confronting my fears about motherhood and having those fears comforted by the gentle kicks and waves inside my tummy that surprise me throughout the day.  I leave Uganda feeling full of support from the incredible women in my life.  Amongst all I have to pack in one suitcase for the next 5 months, I've found room for the beads these women gave me at my birthing blessingway to cling to during labor and room for their notes of love and affirmation, wanting to keep them with me and, in times of doubt, refer to the encouragement of those who know me well.

The last few days have been full of anxiety as I try to think through every detail of our travels - 5 weeks around the East Coast until I land at home in Indiana to await the birth.  Philadelphia, New York, Washington DC, Annapolis, Portsmouth, and Boston are all around the corner.  I have list upon list in a small notebook, reminding me of all that must be done, bought, and packed, all I must prepare for in those travels, for the cold weather, for the weeks after the birth.  My mind has been racing with these plans and I find myself waking in the middle of the night, thinking of another detail I must remember.

But today is different.  I truly feel ready.  I'm ready to step onto the plane, into my third trimester, and onwards toward a huge life change.  I've prepared well and I know deeply that all will be perfect, so now it's time to enjoy the present moment, to soak up these last few hours in my home.  Even with no power and no water at my house, in this moment I stare in appreciation at the tropical birds outside my window and listen to the chickens cluck beside the garden.  The planning is in the past and big changes are in the future.  The Now is perfect, as it moves slowly toward the end of life as I know it.

For a New Beginning
By John O'Donohue

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety,
And the grey promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.