[ Thursday, July 31, 2003 ]
I almost posted to this thing the other night. In the midst of a 30-minute-crying-bucketfuls-choking-wailing-in-front-of-my-computer-screen breakdown.[ Saturday, July 26, 2003 ]
I'm really glad that I just closed everything down.
The thought process of a poet? What is that really? I drive down the road & this story builds in my head. It comes in snippets. It comes in long out of breathe phrases. It comes one word at a time. But it's almost like falling into a trance. Or falling so deeply inside a scene that the actuality of the world fades / morphs / dims. And then I feel like I am suddenly living inside the poem. Memorizing the spectacular hues of green light reflecting on glass. Internalizing everything unspoken in the air that we breathe.
I speak to myself in line breaks. When no one / everyone is watching. Inhale & refuse to let go of the feeling.
When it doesn't come easily for me. Or when I have to search for that voice, I feel like my entire psyche is out of sync. I'm not me. & it leads up to sobbing breakdowns in front a computer/ in a car / in the middle of the highway / balled up in the woods. Strange.
But after my little meltdown I tried to sleep, could not, took an Advil for the headache & ended up turning out something I was really proud of. Something that had been on my mind for a few days. Not nagging. But just there. Just a little piece of knowledge that altered one part of my world.
Dreams. Do you let something that you've thought about, visualized, lived for just go without a fight, without your best attempt to make it work? Or is there ever a time when you just have to be practical & say 'this isn't working'. 'It might not work.' And then just give up. When I was younger I would have shouted an emphatic Hell No! Now. I just don't know. The realist in me is trying to take the dreamer hostage. Trying to say 'you can't do this.' 'It will never amount to anything.' 'Why bother.' The dreamer in me is trying it's best to whisper. 'I want a white couch in the corner with twinkly white lights.' 'You can sell your art.' 'You can have the shop you've lived for since 1997.' 'You can host poetry readings in the evenings, create a writers group.'
I really want to make a go of it. I've wanted it for so long, I don't know how to let the idea go.
So I don't know if I will let it go.
Yesterday, while holding Cody, I just bawled. I was cooing to him, trying my best to get him to goo and gaa & I told him. You are such a beautiful, beautiful boy. & that just did it for me. So many times I've told someone...you look so pretty, you're so sweet, you look beautiful. But I can't say with any certainty that I've ever told anyone that they are beautiful. I was just overcome with the thought...that I would just like to give him so much love while he's little that it will last him his whole life. That he'll just be cocooned in that tenderness & always feel it, tugging at his insides. I really can't imagine that child ever experiencing a hurt. Though it makes us stronger, even more beautiful, I really can't imagine the ache of ever watching him suffer.
When he was just four days old we had a spell where he quit breathing. Lisa paniced, dad started praying & Marcy turned him upside down and did the equivalent of the baby heimlich.
Holding him yesterday, with his head cuddled in my neck, that frail little body lying on my chest...the only thing that mattered was the breathing. How it all boils down to that one thing. To sustain us...to calm us...to regulate our bodies...to moniter health...to get us through...to alleviate pain...to help us focus. The breathing.
Last night when I came home I just felt awful. Basically, the desicions I'm having to make right now are just weighing down on me. Plus, a wasp crawled up my pants leg & stung me 5 times before I could jerk down my pants & kill it. ( I swell, but thank god my throat doesn't.) And then, lying on the table was this little envelope with my name & address printed in pencil. Five months after I left the children's home, one of my girls wrote. I opened up the envelope & it was folded in quarters with 'Miss Becky' on the outside & and inside an I printed on one half, you printed on the other & a heart connecting those two words.
It just meant the world to me. Those kids were/are so much of my inspiration. And the hope that I tried to give to them by seeing them as, not kids with labels attached, but kids with beauty & talent & creativity.
That letter for me...is the most profound proof that yes, in some small way, I did make a difference. To at least one kid. Who will grow up to have her own. That after five months of not being in her life daily, she still thinks about me & what I taught her by delivering hope in the form of laughter & words.
It really is such a small thing. But my god, it means so much. It has brightened up a really dull part of my life & made me feel.
I've been damp-eyed all week. Just feeling so much...I guess I should say gratitude. Because this is such a beautiful, beautiful life. Especially when we are given the ability to love with all that we have & see with all that we are.
I'll end it on that.
Much love. From everything that is anything inside of me. Much love.
~ Rebecca 11:23 PM [+] (0) comments
O.k. So I've not posted on here in a forever. I could tell you 'I've been really busy. I've not had time. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.' I won't tell you that.[ Thursday, July 03, 2003 ]
I've had time. I could have found time.
The truth is I'm so fucking deep in avoidance right now, I really don't know what to say. I've shut down some key elements of me...and truthfully, I don't know how to tap into myself anymore.
I will tell you that for the past 2-3 days I've felt utterly disgusted. Blah to the umpteenth degree. Wednesday I swung back & forth from couch to T.V. watching absolutely nothing, working on almost absolutely nothing. I just stared at the screen until my eyes watered. Probably the beginning of tears but I wouldn't give in to it & let em come.
I just don't know. Maybe it's that the 25th B-day hit. Maybe it's that I'm realizing I'm 5 years from 30. Maybe it's that I feel like such a complete & utter fuck-up.
Maybe I just need one good day of playing in the rain. Walking in it until I'm soaked. Until water is pouring down my chin. Mixing in my mouth. Until I feel like...this old woman skin is clean.
I'm complaining I know. & the reality is...is the last month...I've experienced so many enjoyable moments. Went to a bluegrass festival...went for a long drive with Billie, recreated bull riding scenes from "Eight Seconds" in the pool with Lisa, Lana, & a 5 ft. caterpillar we named "Red Rock", played in, slung mud on Lisa's first 4-wheeling trip since she's had the baby. Today we just sat & laughed our asses, made fun of Tracy Gold & watched a brand new episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.
I mean, really, it doesn't get any better than that. It really doesn't.
Yeah, I'm getting ridiculous.
Anyway, I just don't feel like saying anything else.
Much love.
~ Rebecca 12:58 AM [+] (0) comments
I am quite smitten with a boy.
His name is Dakota Ellis.
He's fourteen days old w/ black hair & blue eyes.
Life is so full of tiny miracles & messes. Tuesday night Lisa went to the hospital to be induced. Due to preclampsia & toxemia her doc. thought it best to go ahead and have the baby. At 7:30 on Wed. morning he broke her water. We waited, waited, waited, waited. Watched her contractions on a moniter, wetted wash clothes, wiped her face. By 8:00 that evening she had only dilated to 4 centimeters. Because of her condition & the length of time since her water had been broken, Dr. Chamberlain prepped her for an emergency C-section.
Tiny miracles, I'm telling you.
Cody's umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck.
Standing outside the O.R. I heard her mother (who is a nurse & works quite closely with the O.R. crew) gasp "Oh no." Then we heard that little cry.
There was such a crew waiting for him outside the Operating Room, lined up single file with cameras & smiles & tears.
I bawled like a baby. And felt such love. For Lisa. For her new little one. For her mother. For the process.
Watching Lisa's labor really was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever encountered. And not for the typical reasons one would say that labor, that birth is beautiful. The pain that Lisa encountered during her labor...brought out the core of who she is. During hard contractions, she closed her eyes, cried but never ever whimpered. I mean the girl didn't make a sound. She bore her pain in the most beautiful, graceful way. There are no other words to describe it. She was at her most dignified.
And to watch the relationship between Lisa & her mother...to see it played out in front of me; how tenderly Marcy stroked her hair or washed her face. It was just such a beautiful & moving moment to witness.
Of course I'm in love with that baby.
The day after delivery Lisa's mom came down with a bad case of something. So I got to drive Lisa & the new baby home from the hospital (talk about a nervous wreck!) & intended on staying a few days to help out until everyone got better & Lisa was healed enough to tend to the baby. I'm just now getting home. We've slept with Cody in the bed between us.
That first night I was up every five minutes, running to the crib, making sure he was breathing.
The second night the bumper pad came off the crib so I could see him at all times.
The third night he was in the bed with us & I slept with my hand on his back so I could feel him breathing.
Life is so full of miracles. They're brewing when we least expect them. When we're not even watching for them.
It's a thousand wonders Lisa didn't miscarry with Cody. She was five months along before she knew for certain. She was still having periods. We lived rough. Rode four-wheelers over hard terrain. Fell off them into creeks. Got no sleep. Talked about what we would do if we were pregnant. And all the while, this little life was brewing...inside her body...listening to every corny joke we told...listening while we sang.
I can't say that this experience hasn't made me want a baby. But when the timing is right. When I'm settled. When I can be a mother first & foremost. And am satisfied with being that. I've felt the urge to nest for the last couple of weeks. I don't know exactly how I'll sleep tonight with that little thing 20 minutes away instead of right beside me.
But I'm just so proud & so smitten & tonight life for me is such a fragile, delicate, beautiful thing. Because there is no softness in the world that can compare to that of new skin. And there is no warmth quite like the warmth of such a tiny soul balled up in your arms & cuddling the crook in your neck.
So so so much love.
~ Rebecca 12:17 AM [+] (0) comments
