The Other Side of the World

deck baths at dusk

tub tub

peas: serious work

window ledge contemplation

not pictured: mama catching a few last babies as the last weeks of student-dom  sally on by

because

he’s

freakishly

delectable

no?

where I come from - the darkest day of the year

where I am - the brightest

this solstice, I midwifed a woman who was so beautiful in labour my heart rose a little every time I glanced at her
(and I glanced many many times. . . ah the privilege of the midwife!)

and then the impossible was actually. . . like a tear of iron-truth through my hoping and trusting and gently feeling.
actually was impossible.

the baby didn’t come.

we cried together in the operating theatre.  Our heads close together, shielded by the unnaturally blue sterile swathes.

O. but it hurt.

And then suddenly, there was a new breath of air.
In she came - all perfection and wonderment

sometimes you can only stand by and watch.
sometimes that has to be enough.
sometimes you will be loved and remembered for doing only that>

hopefully -
sometimes, there is still enough light.

The brightest light - on here, my longest solstice day.

Several weeks ago now - but still noteworthy, Baby and I nipped down South to Christchurch - for another conference. This time - the National Homebirth.

Suffice to say the three days was as cozy as a good wrapping from an old, feels-right blanket.

But the stranger half was being a single-baby mama again.

A sweet, in-depth and luxurious task, I found.
A moment to enjoy looking in only one direction again.

Life’s a whirlwind, otherwise.

But, thankfully, one in which the singular parts are each as beautiful as the whole effect.

. . .and for the first time, upon arriving home I was greeted not with “Mama!”, but “Bebe!”. Clearly the new hierarchy is well established.

Thanks to the Manawatu Homebirth Association for sponsoring my whole trip! You can read my report on the conference on their blog.

 A sweet little birthday celebration for a sweet two years

Checking her adult height - 24 months is supposed to be the halfway growing point.
160cm - 10cm taller than me!

Daddy slaving over homemade pizza

Some discussion over the act of blowing (not spitting) on the candles

And a little help getting the deed done (a whole wheat chocolate cake with raw cream cheese icing)

Happy Birthday, my fire-spirited, wild-limbed, weed-tough, tender-sweet baby-child. Here on the cusp of your own bravery and our mutual embodiment of love.

Thank you for teaching me; how to nourish, how to be brought to my knees, how to emerge stronger from the all-consuming fire of mama-ing.

Sometimes it seems there’s only time to snap a photo when they’re asleep

Or I can’t help myself from wallowing in their sweet warm woolly slumber

Because we wear a lot of sheep around here

Mmmm wool. . . warm, breathable, self-cleaning, anti-bacterial, sustainable, and altogether coziness incarnate.

Thanks, sheep of the world!*

* and all our wonderful friends and family who ensure we’re well supplied with woolly love

we are quite happily - in the days of new-sweet-baby things:

like tandem-breastfeeding-assignment-writing-super-mama-hijinks

and to be fair - the lovely daddy juggles nicely too

while she melts us with the tip of her pink tongue

and this little tongue is pretty darn potent too

- of course, we’re occasionally lifted from our reverie to, er, referee

ah, yup - my people -
they are excellent consumables.

lucky lucky lucky me