Changes, adventures, and awarenesses...

Time has slipped past again.  What a wild awareness of how priorities can be switched, rearranged, and completely forgotten.  The last couple of weeks, my evenings have been spent fighting Liam to go to sleep.  He has been getting 90% asleep and then waking himself up or getting uncomfortable somehow leading to his eyes popping open and we start the dance all over.  A thought came to me the other night, a friend once shared she had read or heard that a child starts to break away from a connected consciousness and starts to become sovereign around two.  Liam is turning two next month and I am curious if we are getting to witness this in action.  Plus, there is another heart beat in our home now, and change is brewing.  What a gift to have this little being remind me to ground, breathe, and relax, if I get wired, he feeds on that and we end up with pinches, tears, and a fussiness that is usually not present.  I laugh because each time I think I am getting a hang of this mommy thing, the rules change, and I am at square one again, thank goodness, I am always up for an adventure!

The last month has been an adventure in gathering information, collaborating with doctors and health care teams, passing information to coordinators, and taking time to allow for guidance to unfold.
There hasn't been much movement in getting Liam into the feeding therapy other than we have 3 letters of medical necessity that have been given to the DDD coordinator and we have requested his primary care provider to refer Liam back to the feeding evaluation.  Each time I think we are done with this feeding therapy, another door opens and in we go!

With this new little being, we are wanting to gather information about how this little one is doing.  I was confused with a blood test thinking that I was receiving a full panel of screens but in reality it was just for Down Syndrome.  As I wrote before, the fear of a child having Down Syndrome is minimal since we know the joy that Liam has brought us and we already have connections to support a child with Down Syndrome so this screen wasn't exactly what we thought.  And then there has been so much information about how Iceland has almost a 0% Down Syndrome population due to genetic testing and terminating positive pregnancies and my heart drops.  All the false positives that were terminated and all the joy that is not present in our world.  I also understand there are huge burdens for some children with Down Syndrome, and isn't that a possibility for any child?  Being at Phoenix Children's Hospital I met mothers with 'typical' children diagnosed with terminal cancer who had been there for months, other conditions for frequent visits for testing or follow ups, therapies to be rehabilitated or habilitated.  I guess what comes to me is that there are no guarantees.  And why would one diagnosis be singled out to be terminated?  A friend shared, the fear of difference, could be a reason, and that makes so much sense to me.  My desire for adventure puts me in situations to meet differences, to stay curious, open minded, and open hearted, but some do not have that same thirst.  So with all of this news, I am trying to stay curious, not take the decisions of others personally and to truly enjoy the absolute joy we have in our home!

Oh and the joy we are experiencing right now!  Liam is growing by leaps and bounds.  His personality is blossoming each day and what a personality!  He is letting us know his likes and dislikes with laughs, pinches, signs, snubbing his nose, and faces.  His walking is getting steadier, he is starting to navigate thresholds going down, he has about 20 signs that he uses to communicate and each day there seems to be another one added.  Going out to public places, Liam has yet to meet a stranger, he loves high fives, 'knuckle bumps', and waves to any one and EVERYONE, even if the gesture is not reciprocated.  We are excited to find out how he does having a baby brother in January.

This week also marks a new journey for me personally.  I have been part of ASIS Massage Education as a teacher and today I had the privilege of graduating my last class.  Being pregnant, wanting to experience Liam's joys everyday, and being present for Sean, I have chosen to step away from ASIS.  This is one of multiple ways that an external identity has been sluffed away so that there can be more space for an authenticity to be present of 'being' instead of 'doing'.  The last 20 years, I have identified myself with what I do, and I would much rather have an identity of 'being' instead of 'doing'.  And after writing that I have to giggle, I will still continue to 'do' massage through this pregnancy until my body lets me know I need to rest.  I feel so grateful for the experience of working with new massage therapists, guiding them through personal explorations and learning so much about myself in the process.  I am excited to put all that I have taught others into practice in my own daily practice.  And the adventures continue!

  

Learning, teaching, building

I teach Communications, Ethics, some Business, and Thai massage at the local massage school.  The last couple weeks I have had the opportunity to be in class more and have been reflecting on the journey of learning.  Liam has been in the classroom since he was 7 weeks old.  When the schedule was being made for the session Liam was to be born in, I told the director my due date.  The last class I taught was Friday, September 11, and Liam was born Monday, September 14, I don't know if I could have planned that any better!

The Communication class is spread out throughout the whole program so sometimes there are big gaps when I won't be with the students.  My maternity leave happened to be during one of these gaps, I wasn't scheduled to comeback to class until the end of October so Liam was ready to join me as my assistant.  When Liam is with Sean or someone else, students will ask where he is, when he is at the school, students will stop to smile, wave, and acknowledge Liam.  He has become a mascot of sorts for the school.  One of the concerns I had when we first found out that Liam may have Down Syndrome was that the public may not know how to handle his diagnosis and I wouldn't be able to handle the public.  I was concerned that we would be pitied, that he would be treated different, that he wouldn't be accepted.  My concerns have been proven false, thank goodness!  More than anything, I think by having him so involved with school, he has learned to be quiet while others are talking (for the most part), to be at ease in large groups of people, and to interact with anyone and everyone.

I have to laugh, when I was in college, the principal of the high school I graduated from bet me a steak dinner I would become a teacher.  At the time I couldn't fathom being stuck in a classroom with a bunch of punk kids trying to teach some subject that the students felt was a waste of time.  I also remember thinking he was probably right, I would end up teaching at some point.  I come from a line of teachers, my mom was an elementary/middle school teacher, my dad ran many trainings in his field, my maternal grandfather was an English teacher, my paternal grandmother went to school to be a teacher, my paternal grandfather was a mechanic teacher, an aunt teaches music lessons, an uncle is a professor, and a distant cousin is a teacher in a foreign country.  Plus, one of my first jobs in high school was teaching ski and snowboard lessons.  What I realize now is that I didn't really enjoy the traditional classroom, the distance that teachers had to maintain because the student-teacher ratio was so high, the lessons that didn't seem to fit into what was happening in real time, and the pain of growing up.
Today the class size is less than 20, the subject matter is all about relationships... with self and others. We sit in a circle so there is no chance for students to hide, there is an air of equality in the room, there is meditation and body movement, there is sharing about experiences, we are all there to learn and teach.  I know I learn from each class, sometimes the lessons are about some weakness in my own belief system, sometimes the lesson is how far I have come in my own journey.

Mom's eyes use to light up when she would talk about her students.  She loved her classes, sometimes not all the students won her heart, but I knew that she cared about each and every one of her classes.  I was baffled by how she could spend so many hours prepping for class, grading papers, dealing with discipline challenges, and teaching the same thing over and over each year.  I couldn't connect with her pure desire to make a space for these punk kids to explore their individuality.  I didn't understand why she had such a difficult time deciding to retire.  Now I understand.  Each of the classes I have had the opportunity to be with has held my heart, they have captured a moment in time.  Some of the students I don't have as easy of a time remembering their story, the class as a whole, however, I remember their story.  Time becomes obsolete when I am in the classroom with the students.  As the students get the ah-ha's there is a welling up that happens, sometime tears will form.  When students are in the middle of the program and they are about to burst because of the pressures from the demands put on them, and I have that feeling they are just about to burst through some bind that holds them back, I get giddy and hold that sacred space for them.  I understand now why Mom couldn't just walk away from decades of teaching, teaching had transformed her as well.  I do wish I could have her here to check in with, to bounce ideas off of, to share student stories.  I am grateful we had some time to be teachers together, I just wish there was more time.

At her memorial there was a message that Mom did many little things that added up to great things.  Like walking every night with a friend added up to thousands of miles.  Showing up daily for work influenced hundreds of kids... and adults.  Driving to Flagstaff each week to capture her dream and finish her teaching degree gave her kids a role model to reach for their dreams- Engineer, Ecologist Guide, and Healer/Teacher.  As Liam explores his world and individuality Mom reminds me that the best lesson I can teach Liam is that when he falls and gets a bump, like today, I will be near to soothe and will help him to reach for his dream, or the top of the stairs.  I guess, I better pay up my end of the bet.

This little light of mine...

This weekend Sean, Liam, and I went up to the Grand Canyon.  We knew we wanted to do something to help remember my mom and the place that just seems to be 'Mom' is the Grand Canyon.  She hiked the canyon more times than I can count.  She would go down to Indian Gardens, hike to Phantom Ranch, go Rim to Rim, and maybe down just a mile or two.  Sometimes she would hike with friends, Dad, us kids, and sometimes she would hike alone.  As we walked the South Rim Trail, I had this realization, she never was alone up there, she would make a 'friend' on the trail, on the rim, on the shuttle bus, in a lobby.  I don't remember a time when she didn't meet a 'friend'.  And sometimes this 'friend' would be a furry friend, scaled friend, or even a feather friend.  No matter what, I don't really ever think she was alone up at the Canyon.

We packed up the car mid-day after a morning of me teaching and headed North.  In Williams we needed a pit stop and decided a candle might be a nice gesture for whatever heart ceremony we were about to facilitate.  We stopped at the local grocery store and I went hunting for a candle.  A long time friend of the family recognized Liam and in that moment I realized that Liam and Mom are similar, they are known.  They love most everyone and most everyone loves them.  They make friends wherever they go.  Another long time friend hollered out and we were able to share a quick hug, a hug I didn't realize I needed until it was exchanged.  Though Williams will never be home again, there is a need that this tiny little town fills and all the people hold a special place in my heart.

We continued up to the Rim, arriving early evening.  The temperature was cold and the sky grey, but there was a familiar warmth that surrounded me and gave me strength.   The last time I was up at the Canyon with Mom was right after Christmas 2015.  She was getting weaker and almost didn't get out of the car.  I think Andrew and Dad coaxed her out into the wheelchair and we toured around the Mather Point Visitor Center.  When we got to the Village, there was something amiss with Mom.  She wasn't looking at the Canyon, this place she would get so giddy about, this view that she didn't capture on paper because no painting could share the depth of her love for this place.  And here she was, unable to walk the Rim trail, unable to even speak loud enough for us to hear sometimes, or make sense of the words she shared.   I guess I knew that Mom was not going to 'beat' cancer that day at the Canyon.  I just didn't realize that I would be saying goodbye in 2 short weeks.

Saturday we went back into the Park, back to Mather Point and this time we bundled Liam up and we walked the Rim trail. We found a place to let Mom's light shine once again on the Rim.  We were able to celebrate, to grieve,  and to honor Mom all while being at the rim of this glorious landscape that Arizona is known for, a landscape I think the whole family has a special relationship with.

There is something so unique when a person passes.  I had the honor of sitting with a friend in 2011 as she transitioned.  I got the call from a mutual friend, asking for me to come.  When I got to our friend, she was breathing irregularly and seemed anxious.  We were bodywork buddies so I went straight to work with Bowenwork moves that I imagined would help calm her system.  The moves worked, she was able to slow her breath and her body relaxed.  We called another friend to come, when she arrived the two of us would alternate doing Bowenwork moves and holding our friend's hand.  As our friend started to lose consciousness she asked for specific Bowenwork moves at specific times.  Finally she relaxed into her journey state, we continued to do Bowenwork here and there if she would get agitated again.  I went into a meditation state and started to sense the subtler needs, the unfinished business.  This friend had a son who was able to make the trip up to say good-bye and there was some healing that could be done.  I started to do PSYCH-K® with her and him, and with each balance, my friend seemed to relax a little more, journey just a little deeper.  And yet, she wasn't able to fully go.  By then, there were just 4 of us in the room, my friend, her son, the Bowenwork friend, and myself.  The Bowenwork friend was whispering to go to the light, to relax and let the light take her.  What I got in the meditation was different, what I got was this; my friend was at a closed door, the door was backlit.  She was already at the light, but she couldn't get the door opened, then it hit me, SHE was the key, she had to let go of her body to open the door.   In an unspoken way I shared that with my friend, I got the sense that she got it, her body was present but something shifted in the room, she was gone.  There wasn't any room for me to rest, it was 1:30am and I was to work in the morning, so I kissed my friend and took my leave.  I got home and at 2:15am got the news that she had passed at 1:43am.  Even now, 6 years later, I feel the magic in that night, and the connection I felt with my friend as she found her way.  Death doesn't scare me anymore, now there is magic, strength, and peace.

I am so grateful I had this experience before Mom's passing, because I wasn't able to be with her when she passed.  I had made the choice to come home get some affairs in order and then head back up until the time came to come back home.  As Liam and I were traveling to Williams, she took her last breaths.  I am so grateful she and I had mended anything that needed mending and she got to spend time cuddling and reading to Liam, because today, the sadness is just that I don't get to hug my mom.  I know I can talk to her, I have dreams about her, and she lives in the stories her loved ones share about her.  So as we leave the darkest part of the year, I am grateful there is a light in honor of my mom flickering on.  Thank you for sharing in the celebration of her life.

A New Beginning...

Happy New Year!  Welcoming in 2017 is very much like waking from a dream that feels too real to be a dream but too surreal to be reality.  2016 was a year filled with opportunities for growth, grieving, change, joy, and journeying into an inner realm.

This time last year my mom was asking if she looked 'cancery'.  I had to tell her the truth, she did.  She consented to going to the hospital to find relief and 'get back on track'.  She passed away in her home on the 12th of January.  I miss her everyday and yet, because of what I believe, I feel her presence everyday.  I will have a thought that seems just a little too close to what she would say and HOW she would say it.  I will feel a warmth at the small of my back, almost as if a hand is placed there.  
My mom and I had a good relationship, we had healed some of the wounds teenage years left behind.  I felt as if I got to meet my mom as a woman rather than a child and she met me as a woman too.  We had some amazing travel adventures, to Europe, and all across the country.  

This blog isn't just about her though, this is about Life, this is about bumbling through all the different opportunities that present in life.  My hope is that this can be a place to share all the bounty of what each experience brings, a place to share little bits of what I am learning, experiencing, and grieving.  

Thank you for joining in the journey and may you recognize your story in mine.