Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Seing the grace

I cherish grace. I notice it. I collect it.
In my mind. In my body. In my things. In my clothes. In my home. In my speech. In my relationships. In my moves. In my life.
I gather the pieces of it and I wedge each one in my memory.
I can always consciously go back to this collage.
It makes my life what it is and what I'm trying to make it. Graceful.
By no means am I trying to say that my life is all beautiful.
I have my moments and periods of fear, anxiety, anger, shame, guilt. I know these quite intimately.
I don't idealize that at some point, even at the end of my life it will all be clean and pretty.
It won't be. It isn't. And that's ok.
I forgive and accept myself and people around me for not always being beautiful.
But it makes me owe to see a moment of grace, a beautiful thing, a nobility and kindness in a person, and I make it a memory.
I make it a part of myself.
This is what makes me strive. I want to remember more of it.
It makes me go further to get more grace in my life. Daily.
I enjoy the beauty of the curves and lines of my body.
I love my beautiful kids. I keep their smiley squint of Yuri's eye in my head, short and long term memory. Alissa's walk. Her mouth falling off my nipple as she falls fast asleep.
I love seeing the caring affection of my parents, their faces.
I love watching my partner move. His stare at me.
I love the food. Not the junk, but the one that does good to your body, feeds and nourishes it. The colorful, fresh.
I love the sound of laughter, a groan of excitement, a quiet conversation that only makes sense to the two.
The feel of loving touch, a hug, a smoochy kiss, a stroke of hair.
Those are not shallow images.
Those are the grace in it`s manifestation.
The light of life.

Friday, 3 January 2014

On weaning

Alissa's second birthday passed. I had "the plan" to start weaning as soon as she is 2.

I'm heartbroken. I can't let go. This is just beyond me.
I heard all of it...  "you are STILL nursing??", "2 years is too long", "you are only doing it for you", "there is no benefit in your milk anymore", "she'll be clingy later", "you are too tired, it's time to cut her loose"... oh, and my favorite one "you are stalling her development"... I'm laughing to these... inside I know the truth. Not the books and research truth that is known as "knowledge". I know the truth that sits inside you day and night and nothing and no one can alter it because it's part of your essence. The truth is, we both benefit from it greatly to this day.

Yet I know there will come a day when we will need to wean. We. Both of us. The thought makes me teary.
I'm not ready. I'm not ready to not have the waves of relaxation and tiredness as soon as she latches. I'm not ready to not be able to look down and see the happy grin with a nipple in her mouth. I'm not ready to not see her eye lashes flutter as she falls asleep and calms down to deep silent breaths. I'm not ready to not feel the nipple sleeping out of her mouth as she drifts off and see that angelically beautiful, peaceful and satisfied face with half open mouth.
I'm not ready.

Sometimes I question if I'm being selfish and not letting her grow up. But then I look at her screaming
"Mama, AAAAMMM!" as soon as she sees me after a day at the daycare or right after she wakes up, and I KNOW. I just know that she needs it as much as I do. It's not just a play of the motherly hormones, it's a clear as bell motherly intuition.

And here I am, sitting with overflowing breasts, because I'm starting to skip the morning feedings... Because I had "the plan". I'm steering in the direction of weaning, hoping that my beliefs will somehow catch up to what I'm doing. I'm hoping that once she is only on one feeding, she'll be more prepared to quit all together. Will I be more ready then?

I do have self doubts. I am at the mercy of breastfeeding supplements to make up for critically low iron and calcium. Every feeding seems like a 50K marathon to my body. I don't wake up until I get to work and have my espresso. I usually start feeling "normal" around 11am after a routine tough night. I am tired beyond human threshold. I can't do laser hair removal
But I can't trade it for freedom and being rested just yet.
I'm not ready.