Gardening in the Rain

Glory: A Poem

2011-09-02T21:30:00.000-07:00

I dedicate this poem to my incredible and wonderful husband Brent, who is also the father of our two sweet and beautiful daughters.

Glory

before our babies

came to us i

cloaked myself in gull feathers, dune grass, and seaweed

the dog and i together guzzling

the scents of the sea.

then, there was that night

all the blood of our little Quinn

went into the toilet and the cat

curled up on my belly,

helping us say goodbye.

after that my cloaks were dust

falling from my shoulders

and the water from the fountain near the pier

became a tonic

for the immeasurable.

then, there was that morning

when unbelievably, again, perhaps.

each day became a prayer, a mantra, a salvation

pruning and weeding all day then

picking up the dog and walking her home

planning our future as three instead of two.

and there she was, my little fish

flipping and flapping out into the world,

filled with the promise of the waves, and the salt, and thestone.

and then later, again.

in the morning instead of the night,

within seconds we would have been five, then we were fouragain,

and then.

the second joined his brother, leaving us three again.

then the night came in like a tide,

washing away so much

i hardly could imagine

what might not be crushed

under the darkened sky.

then it came,

that one more morning,

so quiet and precious this little treasure

she remained secret until she could no longer

and again there were plans

and mantras

and charms of protection.

then suddenly there she was, our little bird

slipping out so quietly

so perfectly,

dear.

and now

today

i cloak myself again

and there are feathers, and seaweed, and dune grass

but also rocks, little words, and wind

and glory,

oh so much glory

in this sun, this sea, this world

that gives

and yields

and offers

waves turning, rolling, breaking

turning, rolling, breaking.

Oh Goody.

2011-08-11T15:43:00.000-07:00

More bigotry as a response to social unrest, as PM Cameron says "... it's not about poverty, it's about culture". But since when is poverty separate from the culture in which it exists? Of course I'm not excusing criminal behavior. However, acting as if cultural violence and disrespect for authority are somehow inexplicably passed down in a vacuum, and pretending that social injustice has no part, or perhaps doesn't even exist, will not help matters in the least.

Elminate Debt Limit Completely?

2011-07-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

Yes, I think so too.

Finally

2011-07-15T09:33:00.000-07:00

The issue of "easy money" is getting some attention from someone within the fed, and he's making his position known.

The issue of the savers subsidizing the borrowers is an important one, and one that I hope will get more and more attention. Thank you, Thomas Hoenig.

The Struggle

2011-07-13T20:27:00.000-07:00

Over the past few weeks I've been paying closer and closer attention to the debt talks. I voted for Obama in 2008, and expect I will again in 2012. Though I haven't agreed with everything he's done, and would have hoped for him to be less yielding in some negotiations, I've also admired his commitment to bipartisan negotiation and compromise, which I think is a good healthy approach to take over the long haul. The health care overhaul, for example, contains several Republican ideas, despite the current GOP characterization of it. I've also felt that Obama has done an excellent job overall in the face of huge pressures, including, unfortunately, GOP intransigence. Today, he walked out of a meeting, angry and apparently fed up.

Well, I'm fed up too, and I felt very sad when I heard the President had walked out of the meeting. Not because he abandoned the negotiations, but because I felt for him - felt how deeply upset he must have been to do that, while saying "This may bring my presidency down, but I will not yield" on making a short term debt ceiling deal. The GOP has made it abundantly clear that they want Obama to be a one term president, and that they will do whatever they have to, including putting the U.S. economy in even deeper jeopardy than it is already. Even The Economist and David Brooks think the spectacle is crossing a line, and I hope we the people hold them accountable in 2012.

Sometimes Twitter...

2011-07-12T16:00:00.000-07:00

...is so surreal. Here is a screen shot of my twitter feed as of about 15 minutes ago:

While someone in British Columbia is being threatened with jail for growing vegetables, a mining company is preparing to mine under a school in West Virginia. The mind boggles, truly.

Nowhere to Go

2011-06-28T22:45:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I got an email from a neighborhood listserv I belong to, informing subscribers that a local non-profit has plans of constructing 75 units of permanent housing for currently homeless people right across the street from our house. 47 steps, to be exact. (According to my very logical and exacting husband, who counted earlier today.) Downtown Emergency Service Center, or DESC, is an award winning provider of services to homeless people that follows the "housing first" philosophy, which basically means getting people into homes first and then helping them get their lives together, instead of expecting folks to somehow get their lives together in order to prove themselves worthy of a home.

My first reaction, my initial emotional reaction, was a feeling of pride, one of feeling honored to be chosen to host these people, people without a place, people who need to be welcomed into a community. I know this sounds odd, perhaps even unbelievable, that this would be my feeling. Growing up, both my parents instilled in me a deep sense of caring for others, by the example they set in their lives both at work and with friends. My father would drop everything to help a friend; if someone needed an emergency plumber, mechanic, or engineer, my father was one of several men in our neighborhood who would come over and help. He also cooked spaghetti for many a neighborhood fundraising dinner, and when Brent and I along with some friends started a non-profit arts center, both my parents came out from the Midwest to help clean the space for the grand opening.

After leaving teaching, my mother started her career as a real estate agent selling vacant homes to low income people and veterans. Later, after graduating from law school and joining the Minnesota bar, she worked as an advocate with the Children's Defense Fund, lobbying and doing research. After that she worked for the state and in the private sector in structuring child support systems, and then a few years ago was appointed by the Governor of Minnesota to lead the state's initiative to end homelessness. Currently she's doing the same thing she was doing for the state only for a private non-profit called Heading Home Minnesota.

That's not the full story, though. They weren't the only bleeding hearts in the neighborhood. One of our neighbors and close family friends, in fact, once took in a homeless family and allowed them to live in his garage (until the man of the homeless family started telling him what to do, and then, as neighborhood legend has it, the man of the family that took them in said "This is MY castle, and I'M king!" And kicked them out.) We lived in an "inter-racial" (read poor and primarily African-American) neighborhood, minority white home owners with many other Kumbaya white folks on our block and surrounding blocks.

My parents and their friends were on a mission, and though I had some hard times as the "white girl" in my neighborhood, I've come not only to respect that mission but somewhat to share it as well. Now, my family lives in a similar neighborhood in Seattle, though it is more multi-ethnic than where I grew up and we live right on the busy, disreputable street rather than a couple blocks off of it as I did growing up. We moved here because we found a house we liked with affordable rent, and though we've wanted to live other places and sometimes still do, we've grown to love the neighborhood and the people in it, warts and all.

The project that is (probably) going in across the street will be serving mentally ill and/or drug addicted folks who are coming in off the streets. These are the people that most of us pass by in disgust, they are the "untouchables", the repellent pee smelling people who mutter to themselves, or perhaps accost us as we walk past with vile, hate filled words. I won't say "we" - I - have tried not to see these people. I am repulsed, frightened, sometimes even rageful. But, when I'm busing around town with my daughters, we come across many of these forgotten souls. And what I've noticed is, my daughters are not automatically repelled. They see these people as just other people, and engage with them the same way they would with anyone. That recognition brought me to a decision. I would teach my children to see everyone as a person, an individual deserving of respect, dignity, and compassion. But that doesn't mean just being nice all the time to everyone no matter what. Children see clearly, and also have no filters. When my older daughter doesn't like someone she makes it very well known, and I let her take the space she needs if she doesn't want to interact with someone. But she's not picking up on whether a person smells like pee, or has a drug problem, or looks disheveled - she picks up on the energy of the person.

Also, as a Zen Buddhist, I live my life continually reflecting my feelings and thoughts back onto myself. Compassion and non-judgement are my primary spiritual tasks, and I am continually looking for opportunities to exercise and practice these skills. Being presented with 75 people who might disgust or repel me is a great spiritual opportunity.

Last night there was a meeting at the library down the street in which the Executive Director of DESC presented the project. I wasn't there but read this article about the meeting, and Brent did stop by but the space was completely packed and he couldn't hear the proceedings so he left. But apparently it became, in parts, a shouting match between neighbors for and against the project. All day I've been feeling down about this acrimony, even though it isn't a surprise. Perhaps I'm naive, or full of myself, or both, but all the hoopla about property values, possible sexual predators, "bad neighbors", and this neighborhood "not being in a place" to be able to support these people just seems really beside the point to me. To me it is about people. Not an abstract concept of people, but actual people. People who need somewhere to go. But they don't only need a place to live. They need a place in someone's heart. They need to be seen. Perhaps my neighborhood will become that place, and perhaps I and my neighbors can be those people. I hope.

The Pull of Gravity: A Short Review

2011-06-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

The Pull of Gravity by Gae Polisner

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a sweet, wonderful story of friendship, love, and the internal battles of growing up and finding one's center in a difficult and bewildering world. Polisner's prose is modern and easy to read, yet tight and extremely well crafted. There are no excess words or "glazed over" paragraphs here. One of my favorite parts of this book is how Polisner weaves Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men" into the story, making it an excellent teaching companion in the classroom. When my daughters first read "Of Mice and Men", I will definitely have them read "The Pull of Gravity" along side it, whether their teacher assigns it or not.

View all my reviews

This is It

2011-06-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

Now. Now is the time that is so precious. Certainly this is always true no matter the circumstances, but never is it so pronounced as when one watches one's children grow up. Last night Brent and I sat together watching the girls while dinner was cooking... Willow, 4, in her underwear singing made up songs and waving her dress like a flag, Grace, 14 months, practicing her walking and talking. The kitchen still had remnants of breakfast, there were paintings, clothes, and shoes all over the floor. In these times, when the children are so young, chaos reigns. One can't make coffee before it's time to change a diaper, settle a dispute, set up paints, or answer a million questions. Grace will stand and think about walking, then decide (again) to crawl. Willow learns new words constantly. The growth and change literally happens before our eyes. Then there are the milestones: the first word, the first step, the first drop-off at day care or preschool, kindergarten. Graduation from kindergarten. Then from elementary school, then middle, then high school, then college... children become adults, stop changing (at least externally) moment by moment. The heart breaks open, grows, finds a new equilibrium.

I've heard this quote often at our co-op preschool, but I don't know who said it: "The days are long but the years are short." Last night was one of those times when I could see that so clearly, could feel the unfolding of time and the fullness of the moment. Indeed, yes. The days are long, but the years are short.

Philosophy 102

2011-03-21T21:09:00.000-07:00

I find the whole thing about "does NPR have a liberal bias" to be rather funny. The fact is, the search for truth is inherently a liberal pursuit. Conservative thinking is all about knowing the truth. No one knows the truth like FOX News. No one seeks the truth and attempts to give it context like NPR.

Union Banks?

2011-03-12T11:53:00.000-08:00

Just read this article at Firedog Lake, and thought it was an interesting idea that probably wouldn't go anywhere. But then I saw this article posted on a friends page. Maybe there really is momentum for union owned banks, the implications of which could be very far reaching.

Debbie Riddle Me This

2011-03-04T08:36:00.000-08:00

Big surprise. A tea party favorite wants to pass a draconian law that applies to everyone. Except herself and all her friends.

Representative Mike Simpson

2011-03-04T07:16:00.000-08:00

Is also going against the will of the American people, for what it's worth.

Gutting the EPA

2011-03-03T20:11:00.000-08:00

Idaho Representative Mike Simpson has it all backwards, saying that the EPA is "...costing jobs in this country." But this assumes that our economy is working at peak efficiency, which it is not. Millions are out of work, and yet there is plenty of work to be done: bridges need mending, sewers need modernizing, children need teaching. Representative Simpson also said today on NPR that he has not gotten many calls complaining about the GOP plan to cut the EPA budget by 1/3. These budget cuts would have a direct effect on public health, making our water and air dirtier and adding more pollutants such as mercury into the atmosphere.

If you care about your health, the health of your neighbors, or the health of your children, give Mike Simpson a call tomorrow, and tell him you disapprove of his plan to gut the EPA. Remind him there are perhaps billions to be found by reducing or eliminating inefficient, inequitable, and disastrous fossil fuel subsidies. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear from you.

Representative Mike Simpson, 2nd District of Idaho, can be reached at: 202-225-5531

First, Do No Harm.

2011-02-26T20:24:00.000-08:00

C'mon Obama, get with the program. At least instruct your guy Kerlokowski to focus on harm reduction rather than bullying the editorial boards of local newspapers.

Is There a Trojan Horse in Wisconsin?

2011-02-26T17:36:00.000-08:00

I'm not much of a fan of conspiracy theories. So the conspiratorial part of this article isn't really the point to me. However, there's a little piece of Wisconsin's contentious budget bill that may be even worse for the people of Wisconsin than busting the unions: the potential sale of state owned power plants, without any public input or oversight:

begins on the bottom of page 23:

44. 16.896 of the statutes is created to read:
16.896 Sale or contractual operation of state−owned heating, cooling, and power plants. (1) Notwithstanding ss. 13.48 (14) (am) and 16.705 (1), the
department may sell any state−owned heating, cooling, and power plant or may
contract with a private entity for the operation of any such plant, with or without
solicitation of bids, for any amount that the department determines to be in the best
interest of the state. Notwithstanding ss. 196.49 and 196.80, no approval or
certification of the public service commission is necessary for a public utility to
purchase, or contract for the operation of, such a plant, and any such purchase is
considered to be in the public interest and to comply with the criteria for certification
of a project under s. 196.49 (3) (b).

The fight over Senate Bill 11 is not about the money. It's about who controls the future of Wisconsin, and it seems clear Governor Walker doesn't intend for it to be the people of Wisconsin.

More of This, Please

2011-02-23T10:43:00.001-08:00

Really exciting stuff on so many levels, coming out of Ohio.

Just Sayin'

2011-02-21T09:09:00.000-08:00

Hmmm... Lila Rose with Live Action. sounds a lot like Afghanistan's Vice President Mohammad Qasim Fahim in this story.

Turn It Upside Down

2011-02-20T20:16:00.000-08:00

Over the past generation, we've heard over and over again about how people pay too much in taxes, how it cripples the economy and productivity, and how in a free society we ought to be able to spend our money how we want.

I think it's time, as we enter into serious discussions about the role and scope of government for a new era, that we turn this argument on it's head. Let's get real about what we want government to do, the services we expect it to perform (libraries? public schools? parks? police? firefighters and emergency responders?), and figure out how to pay for it. There are no doubt extras we don't need and efficiencies to be found, but I think most folks would like government's role to be what it has been, for the most part: creating the infrastructure and context in which people of all means and backgrounds can have great opportunity to live fulfilling lives. If we are going to do this, we must realize that it's time to pay for it... and that all of us get much more for our taxes than anyone would care to admit.

The Difference a President Makes

2011-02-06T11:05:00.000-08:00

Yes, there are contradictions. Yes, there are still many problems to be confronted. But in case you were wondering about the difference between a center-right president and a right-of-right-wing president, here you have a good illustration:

http://www.npr.org/2011/02/06/133524465/justice-department-strengthens-focus-on-civil-rights

Obama's Tax Cut Position: A Strategic Retreat

2011-02-05T13:34:00.000-08:00

This post was begun on December 7, 2010, before the tiff between Obama and some progressives reached its conclusion. Interestingly, we have not heard much yet this year from progressives with regard to tax policy and moving the economy forward. It would seem now is a good time to draw the terms of debate in more progressive terms. Perhaps, though, the progressives in Congress are plumb worn out from their fight last year.

Here we go again, fighting amongst ourselves over which battles to fight. I really don't think this is the right time, although as progressives band together and fight for a better deal, I wonder whether I'm right.

I really agree with President Obama that we need to have a detailed discussion of what our national priorities are going forward, and how we're going to pay for them. We need to update and streamline the tax system and make it more progressive. We need to look at our educational system, from Kindergarten to post graduate, and how to allow access to a decent education and opportunities for everyone. We need to discuss how to approach our looming environmental and energy crises. If we are going to dedicate resources toward our future, one that is just as well as comfortable, we need to delve into a whole host of issues that all our partisan wrangling has served to help us avoid. This cannot be done in a month.

If we spend the next month fighting for a different tax cut deal that includes the extension of unemployment benefits, and win, that's great, but then the really important discussion probably won't happen. The American people will think it's all been settled, and we'll once more have papered over a whole host of problems without discussing the real issues, and no one will have the interest or the energy for a national conversation starting next year.

On the other hand, I'm hearing progressives in congress like Representatives McDermott and Inslee, and Senator Bernie Sanders, say that if we just allow the cuts to expire then we go into the next session with a good negotiating position, since the Republicans have placed a lot of political capital on the idea of keeping the tax cuts for everyone, including the upper income brackets. I think this is a reasonable position, however, by going this route we put the extension of unemployment benefits at risk, which is both unjust and poor economic policy. And as I said, even if we did win that too, if we really pushed it and twisted some arms on both sides of the aisle, all that pushing and arm twisting has a price. We'll all be done by January, congratulating ourselves and glad we got the good deal, but it's still just a band aid.

I realize there won't be as many Democrats, in Congress next year, but it isn't that important. According to Gallup, most people in the U.S. think we ought to end the tax cuts on the top income earners, and some think we need to end all the tax cuts. The group thinking we need to end only the cuts at the top, however, is shrinking. And the reality is, there will need to be both spending cuts and tax increases in the future if we are going to balance the budget. Tax rates at all income levels are lower than they need to be if we want to pay for all the services people demand. We as a nation need to use the next two years to really dialogue and lay out our core values going forward. No one will get everything they want. Democrats and progressives need to get together and decide what is sacrosanct and where we're willing to compromise. This seems to be a weak point for the left in this country: every issue is the most important issue, and no issue can be compromised. We absolutely must look at the big picture right now and decide what three or four things will push us into the future in a way that allows democracy and opportunity to flourish. The first step, I think, is to let this deal go through, even as we hammer out our priorities in preparation for the battles ahead.

Throw the Bums Out: Negative Campaigning and the Deterioration of the Electorate

2011-02-05T10:19:00.000-08:00

Of course a few political dramas have already happened since the election, but I've been thinking a lot about it and the dynamics of our political culture. I'm not going to pick apart the campaigns, or analyze the results and say it's a mandate, or it's not a mandate, or what the lessons are to be learned politically from the recent midterm elections. What I'm interested in are the lessons we can learn philosophically from the 2010 midterms, and from that point the practical implications can reveal themselves.

In my reading and listening to some analysis, and talking and thinking about the elections, I've had some revelations that I hope can help move our political culture toward a new place and begin rebuilding our national dialogue into something constructive instead of the fractious mess it's become.

Negative campaign ads have become a major fixture in politics over the past generation. There was a time when national campaign ads were halting, low budget affairs not much more sophisticated than the proverbial high school campaign speech. Those days are long gone, however, and since the advent of cable, the internet, and the 24 hour on demand news cycle, it takes a lot more than a talking head in front of a blue screen to get anyone's attention.

Enter negative campaign ads. They're sensational, attention grabbing, and seem to draw out the differences between candidates. Of course they're often also ludicrous, untruthful, and focused on irrelevancies like the Rand Paul "Aqua Buddha" controversy. Adding fuel to the already enormous fire, the Citizen's United decision handed down earlier this year struck down prohibitions on corporations (either for or non-profit) and unions issuing "electioneering communications", opening the floodgates and resulting in huge increases in political spending and advertising, much of it negative.

So, during the heat of a campaign, the electorate is treated to a non-stop onslaught of ads which basically say "do anything in the world except vote for that guy." There is less and less substance, less and less of "vote for me because", and more and more "not that guy". Such intense negativity prevents the development of constructive ideas about how we might address our myriad problems (deteriorating environment, high and persistent unemployment, stagnant wages, outdated infrastructure, poor public schools, mushrooming debt), and "we the people" are left with lots of resentful energy but very little actual information about which candidate would most reflect our values. This kind of climate not only breaks down our ability to discuss and decide issues thoughtfully, but it leads to a high level of dissatisfaction and distrust in government itself. Thus, in every election we "throw the bums out", and when those bums don't seem to be doing their job, we throw them out to make room for the next round.

At the same time, something interesting has happened with political strategy. The Republicans, playing to what they saw as their base, energized that "base" so well that a whole new group of folks has gotten involved in politics, blossoming into the Tea Party movement. Meanwhile (New) Democrats have been busy courting "swing" voters, trying to win over those elusive centrists who can never seem to make up their minds. Both strategies have led to electoral victories, leaving the pundits to argue endlessly over which strategy is better for a particular campaign. However, both strategies have also resulted in the two major parties losing their way philosophically, and neither party any longer seems to stand for anything much. This apparent lack of a strong belief system, a set of values which will not be compromised, has not only eroded the public's confidence but also damaged the ability of elected officials to govern and make policy.

This should, perhaps, come as no surprise. We have recently entered not only into a new century but a new millennium, which is often heralded by chaos and unrest. With the economic system having come dangerously close to collapse, and the long term survival of the natural environment as we know it in question, everything seems to be up for grabs. All these thoughts were roiling in my head when my mother sent me this article, about the drama of the baby boomers and how they visit it upon the rest of us. This sense of everything being up for grabs is not new: the peace and justice movements of the 60s and 70s, led by some of the same people now battling in the halls of Congress, led to things like Roe v. Wade, the Civil Rights Act and the desegregation of schools. But one person's hard won victory is another person's devastating loss, and though many of us have thought of those battles as over and done, some of the folks who lost back then are back on the political stage demanding a do-over. The baby boomers argued bitterly over the meaning and direction of our United States of America back in their college days not only with their parents, but with each other, and now I believe we're witnessing those college arguments come back to life. Since the baby boom generation has come of age, though instead of playing out in the streets they're playing out on the radio waves, on television, and in the halls of Congress

So what's the answer to ending this absurd drama? I believe there is a very simple, yet difficult solution. Be principled, but kind. Stop reacting instantly to everything we see and hear. Take a step back. Each of us needs to think clearly about our own principles, to research the issues and find our own way through the muck, and to know and stand in our own values. Don't worry so much about the other guy, and quit working on layers and layers of assumptions. Instead, be clear about what's important for you and work to make your own vision a reality. Join groups doing work you admire, and bring your individual influence to bear with your elected officials. To be clear, I'm not suggesting that things will just automatically change because we as individuals begin to talk clearly with each other and search for solutions instead of endlessly dramatizing the problems. But I am suggesting that a democracy is only as strong as its citizenry; we are the ones who will find lasting and peaceful solutions to our problems. This is the path toward the "more perfect union" we seek.

Extending the Moment of Silence

2011-01-10T07:06:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, Gabrielle Giffords and 19 others were shot. Six people died, including a 9 year old girl. Today, Monday, two days later, there has already been much talk about who is to blame, given the apparent politically charged nature of these acts allegedly committed by Jared Loughner. People on the left are blaming Palin, her crosshairs, and other pundits such as Limbaugh for their angry and violent rhetoric. People on the right are saying Mr. Loughner is the only one to blame, his actions have nothing to do with anyone's rhetoric, and that the left has been just as angry and violent in their rhetoric.

Today President Obama announced a moment of silence at 11am EST. I am calling on all the pundits across the political spectrum to turn this moment of silence into a day of peace and perhaps some real soul searching. In a time when even the smallest private action or statement can be magnified and broadcast across the world, each of us needs to think a little harder about the things we say and do. We have been tearing ourselves and each other apart, and this tragedy seems to me a wake up call. Let's not make this one more battle ground for our personal vendettas and viewpoints. Let's extend this moment of silence into a day of peace and reflection instead; across the airwaves and in our own lives.

The Zeitouns and the End of the War

2010-09-10T22:06:00.000-07:00

SPOILER ALERT: If you have not read Zeitoun by Dave Eggers and intend to read it, there are spoilers in this post.

I began this post last November, just after I finished reading Zeitoun, by Dave Eggers. It is a non-fiction account of one New Orleans family's experiences during and after Hurricane Katrina. The book is beautifully written, a moving account of misfortune, love for humanity, faith, betrayal, and perseverance. Abdulrahman Zeitoun, a Muslim Syrian-American, is married to Kathy, who converted to Islam before meeting her husband. Eggers tells the story of the Zeitouns and their children, when Abdulrahman decides to stay behind after the hurricane to take care of their home and help those who need it.

In the story, Mr. Zeitoun and three others are taken into custody by National Guardsmen and New Orleans police. Though he was not informed of any charges, he was transferred from a makeshift facility at a local Greyhound station to Elayn Hunt Correctional Center in St. Gabriel, Louisiana, where he spent 20 days without trial. Before his transfer he met many others who were in a similar situation: incarcerated with no understanding of why and no one telling them what their charges were. Eggers does an excellent job of giving the reader a "there but for the grace of God" feeling, and the lack of clear charges has both Mr. Zeitoun and the reader guessing at why this could be happening.

Throughout the book, which takes place 4 years after September 11, 2001, I couldn't help but wonder what is going on that a citizen of this country would be incarcerated without any sort of arraignment for 20 days, simply for staying in his home city to help people during a natural disaster. The communications he has with his wife are heartbreaking, and we don't know what is going to happen. Will he ever see his wife and children again? As the book goes on this prospect seems bleaker and bleaker.

As I finished the book, I kept thinking about the wars we're fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, and feeling very strongly that we must end these wars. I couldn't put my finger on why, though. What did the wars have to do with Hurricane Katrina and the Zeitoun family? They're Muslim, but one is not led to believe that Mr. Zeitoun's treatment is necessarily because of that, although he and one of his friends who is also Muslim are repeatedly served pork and left with very little to eat. And though the response to the hurricane by both local and federal authorities is certainly lackluster and even perhaps incompetent, this doesn't necessarily seem a result of the war. But there is a definite parallel with ideas and images of Guantanamo in the transitional jail at the Greyhound station, and what is happening to Mr. Zeitoun feels much more like a war than a natural disaster.

Finally I realized what seemed to be going on, that this man, only staying behind to help friends and clients and protect his property, would be imprisoned and treated like a criminal, without anyone intervening on his behalf. Our country had been at war four years by then, two of those years in two countries. But it isn't only soldiers or guardsmen who go to war. It is all of us. When we send our people to make war in another country, a little of each of us goes too. Right now, today, we are all at war, and we are all on guard. The whole Terry Jones Koran burning furor is an example of this. We are each frightened of the enemy, wondering when the enemy will strike next. If our country is grieving September 11, we seem to be stuck in the anger stage right now. And we will be until we end these wars. As we fight these wars, our national character deteriorates. We want to move on, we want to let go, but we're stuck fighting with and fearing the enemy, and finding the enemy in one another. Living in fear, living for the next fight, is detrimental to the psyche. We all begin to create a militaristic culture here at home, to see things in light of the war, to look at life in terms of us and them. And that is when the kind of injustice that happened to the Zeitoun family becomes possible.

As the ninth anniversary of September 11th approaches, it seems appropriate that I finish this post and publish it. I intend to grieve this weekend, and to allow this time to remind me that peace begins with me, in my life, with my daily actions and how I treat those around me. May love and peace bless you and yours on this solemn weekend.

Open Letter to Dove World Outreach Church

2010-09-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Pastor Jones and Friends:

Please reconsider your plans to burn the Koran this Saturday, September 11th. I realize you are praying about this decision, and open to a sign from God. Of course, I cannot give this to you, but I beg you, consider your own souls in this act. We have all been hurt, in small and large ways, throughout our lives. Each of us is affronted on a daily basis by people or situations we disagree with or dislike. And sometimes, extremists do terrible things, like the terrorists of September 11, 2001.

Thousands died that day, and I know you grieve that loss. But to live a life out of anger and hatred, and put that out into the world as an offering, is detrimental to your own soul. Every time we act in violence or anger instead of love or forgiveness, a little piece of the God that is in us dies. When we go home to our loved ones, we want to offer them the best we have in us, offer them our love and caring. But when you live out of anger, and act out of anger, your capacity for love diminishes.

If you cannot find it in your hearts to spare the lives of our soldiers in harm's way, who will surely be in more danger because of your act, or to spare the feelings of all of us in this country who wish you not to do this, at least think of your selves, and remember that anger and bitterness will never, ever benefit you or your life.

Please find a loving, forgiving way to stand up as Christians, for your own sakes and the sake of the God who created you.

Sincerely,
Katie Kadwell

To Bed Without Dinner, To Sleep With a Song

2010-07-11T21:41:00.000-07:00

I just finished singing both girls to sleep. One of my fondest dreams has been to have my children fall asleep to the sound of my voice, though Willow never did as a baby. She would like me to sing for a while, but would always start to complain and then nurse to sleep. She was also very particular about which songs I would sing, and would fuss until I sang songs she liked. Of course, a few of my favorites were ones she would not put up with. Grace, on the other hand, loves any kind of song and will instantly shift her mood when sung to, as long as it's a fairly gentle tune and tone of voice.

Grace was fussy this evening, and so Brent ended up making the dinner. Frozen stuffed shells, sauce, cheese, garlic bread, and corn on the cob. Willow watched her video while Brent cooked and I calmed Grace. But then, right before dinner was ready to serve, Brent told me he wasn't feeling well and needed to lie down. I served the dinner for myself and Willow, and sat down. I felt disappointed not to be having our usual family time for dinner, since we only eat about 3 dinners a week together. Willow did some running back and forth but finally sat for a good portion of time and ate about 1/2 of a cob of corn, one of her favorites. Because of a late play date and baby fussing, dinner was late and Willow had apparently filled up on crackers. I ate my dinner with gusto however, being famished from the general duties of mothering and not having eaten since lunch. I kept Brent's portion warm, and Willow dutifully went to check on him a few times, but he stayed in bed. So I did the night time routine with the girls with him in bed asleep (though saying he would get up after the girls went to sleep). At some point I decided I'd better stand up and rock Grace rather than sitting with her in bed, and so I was standing over Willow's bed. Willow asked me about a song I'd sung earlier that day to put Grace down for a nap. The song, Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby, was in O Brother Where Art Thou and is one of my favorite lullabies. Of course I only know the chorus, and I don't even have that quite right, but I sing it over and over. Willow said "why does that song say vintobody baby?" I said "It says "There ain't nobody but the baby". She asked me to sing it to Grace, and I did. Then she asked me to say "Daddy's gone away and mama's gonna stay" instead of "Mama's gone away and Daddy's gonna stay". I did, and sang it over again for about 10 minutes, as I watched both Willow and Grace gradually fall asleep in the darkening room. Willow on her bed, limbs splayed like a game of pick up sticks, and Grace lying across my forearm with her arms wrapped around mine and her little hands clasped together. Both girls love to hold their little hands together, Grace especially. So there I was, my wonderful husband asleep after many days without enough rest, and two beautiful girls finally sleeping peacefully. The light in the room glowed with the setting sun, and I stood in that light feeling blessed and grateful beyond imagination for the love in that room.

The Fourth of July

2010-07-03T10:41:00.000-07:00

I've never liked the 4th of July festivities much. I love picnics, and hot dogs, and beaches, and I love this country. I don't know, though, whether I love the U.S.A. because I grew up here and it't MY country, or because I really think it's better here. But I'm glad to live here, and feel blessed to live somewhere that is not torn up by war and bombs and horror. Which is why I've never understood fireworks. Not the kind you go and see, the spectacular light shows... I love those. It's the idiotic, noisy crap that people buy at roadside stands. What's the point? All it does is make your nice, peaceful neighborhood sound like a war zone. And it scares our poor dog, who, ironically, has her birthday on the 4th. We've gone to a lot of trouble making this country a peaceful place to live, what with manifest destiny and all the wars we've fought (and still fight) abroad. Why turn our neighborhoods into war zones for the weekend?

Why I Live Here

2010-07-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

I was listening to To the Best of Our Knowledge tonight, about a sense of place. As I listened I thought about some of my favorite places over my lifetime. Sometimes I've thought about moving back to the Midwest, especially since having children. The pull toward family is great. But my husband, who is from Iowa, and I both love it here. I really don't want to live anywhere else. As I listened to the show, I realized finally what the deep pull is for me for this part of the world, where the rain is misty, the green is so green, and clouds are such a part of life. Here, because of the landscape, the mystery of life is just sitting there, raw, open, to be explored. Back east, or in the Midwest, there is a sense of having solved the mystery, or at least of having left it behind for more important things. Here in the Pacific Northwest, the mystery of life and existence is palpable, from the coyotes that inhabit the forest four blocks from our home, to the man who lives out of his van in the Shell station parking lot next door. I don't want to solve this mystery, I want to experience it daily and meet people who feel the same. That's why I live here.

Really?!?!?!??!?!

2010-06-22T14:37:00.000-07:00

So, money is protected speech, but speech and mediation are not. Really, Supreme Court?

All I Have Time For Today

2010-06-18T16:23:00.000-07:00

Thumbs down Admiral Thad Allen, thumbs up Turkey and Kenneth Feinberg.

First Email Post

2010-06-07T20:27:00.001-07:00

This is my first post via email to test my blogging possibilities.

What We're Up Against

2010-06-04T17:21:00.001-07:00

As I watch the horror unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico, I've been thinking a lot these days about the movie Koyaanisqatsi. This film with no plot and no dialogue, put to the music of Phillip Glass, is about the relationships between humans, nature, and technology. Koyaanisqatsi is a Hopi term for "life out of balance", and contains at the end a chorus singing three Hopi prophecies, one of which is "If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster." As I watch the images coming out of the Gulf, I feel deeply the truth of this idea.

Yet, here I am, typing on my computer made with minerals mined from the earth, with my cell phone sitting next to it, both of them fabricated from petroleum products. Our society is not merely addicted to oil, but to the unsustainable level of comfort oil supports. Oil may be at the center of things right now, but as we try to find ways of living our lives without irreparably harming the planet, we'll see that nearly every activity we participate in, and every product we purchase, has some negative impact on the earth.

Eleven people died in this tragedy, and eleven people's families are grieving right now as our nation grieves the loss of habitat, livelihoods, and wildlife. Yet we're not ready to let go of our comforts. We can stop using plastic bags made with petroleum, but only if we replace them with bags made from corn plastic. We may stop using coal to heat our homes, but in turning to solar we embrace the mined materials that make up photovoltaic cells.

We need to remember, it hasn't always been this way. In fact, my father remembers the day his mother celebrated being able to put all her trash in one barrel, instead of saving the tin for the tin man, the rags for the rag man, etc. At some point we need to begin shedding some of our excess. What this might look like, I don't know. I do know that the BP disaster definitely will not be the last of its magnitude as we struggle to unravel our tangled web of destruction.

Honor, Duty, and Love

2010-05-23T08:28:00.000-07:00

The past couple of weeks have been incredible, with our new (7 week old) baby Grace, and our lovely 3 1/2 year old daughter Willow. I've been on my own most of the time, since relatives finished visiting a couple of weeks ago and Daddy went back to work. We've been on a couple of outings the three of us, and have had our ups and downs with occasional time outs for Willow (and Mommy too), smiles and laughs, and lots of cuddles, songs, and reading books.

Yesterday morning when we woke up Willow did her usual thing of hugging Grace with 3 year old vigor. Grace was awake and smiling, and for the first time looked right at Willow with a huge, big smile. That was one of my fondest dreams coming true, right before my eyes. Two beautiful, wonderful children who love each other and have fun together. I felt full, and honored. The love of a child, after all, is one of the greatest honors life has to offer. And it's my work, every day, to live up to that honor, to not tarnish that honor. As someone said to me while watching Willow in line at a Subway a couple of weeks ago, "Ah, what a great time. Life is just a shiny new penny." My job is to keep that penny feeling shiny and new for as long as I can.

The Myth of the Filibuster Proof Majority

2010-02-03T22:02:00.000-08:00

Much has been made about this 60 votes, from the 2008 election all the way through the loss of Kennedy's Senate seat to Scott Brown. But if the Democrats' 60 votes really meant that much, health care reform would have passed last summer. A "filibuster proof majority" is only filibuster proof if the majority party agrees to vote as a block. Which the Democrats rarely ever do. But the Dems still have an 18 vote majority in the Senate. More than the Republicans ever had under Bush. So get it together people... bipartisanship doesn't mean capitulating to the minority party's every whim. And inviting a filibuster doesn't mean a partisan war. There are ways of having serious debate, and demanding real leadership from the opposition party, without being a bully or a bad guy. Start leading, and get some of these important initiatives passed... BEFORE the mid-term elections. People love winners, and they don't care as much about how you win as whether you win. So stop the dilly dallying, stop the whimpering, stop the wishy washy hand wringing, and GET SOMETHING DONE!

The Fava Fiasco

2010-02-03T20:33:00.000-08:00

I had big plans this winter of planting a fava bean cover crop. I didn't get the seeds in the ground until the second week of November, though, and though I got a lot of germination the seedlings did not survive. I think the soil was too cold and wet by the time I planted. So now I have disappointing empty beds. I also dug down into the paths, to make the beds more raised. It worked well, but because I needed to keep the outer path level with the rest of the ground, I ended up with huge pools of water between the beds. I don't think this helped the favas either.

I did a combination of broadcasting and burying the seed, since I had about twice as much as I needed. I definitely recommend burying the seed. I used a digging fork to make one inch deep little holes, and put a few beans in each hole. I think burying these larger seeds helps them to root better, as I ended up with a lot of seed germinated on top of the soil that just sort of sat there like little orphans, not knowing where to put their roots. This fall, if I have a garden, I'll see what happens if I get the seeds in by early October. Maybe even the last week in September. I should have been more cognizant of the weather, which was unusually cold in October and November this year. Ah, well. Such is the way of gardening.

I'm excited to have the beds ready now for spring, though. I'll be planting some peas in the next week or so. Hopefully these will do better than the favas.

Letter to President Obama: Clean Energy

2010-02-02T22:22:00.000-08:00

Dear President Obama:

I was very glad to hear you talk about clean energy in your State of the Union address the other night.

However, I'm concerned about your apparently uncritical support of nuclear power. While I think that nuclear power is going to have to be part of the mix as we move toward carbon-neutral energy sources, I have many concerns. I have always been pretty strongly opposed to nuclear power in general, until I read the book "Physics for Future Presidents", by Richard Muller. He details how nuclear power can be much safer, using pebble bed technology rather than the older reactor & cooling tower technology. Pebble bed reactors are much safer, since the fuel is embedded into pebbles, which are self cooling and will never create an out of control chain reaction. However, current law in the U.S. requires all reactors to have a cooling tower, which would be redundant in the case of a pebble bed reactor. The pebble bed reactors can also re-use their fuel, which saves money in mining and operation costs. If we are going to have a new generation of nuclear power in this country, it ought to be the best, safest technology available.

Though I do think nuclear power must be part of the mix, I would like to also see a strong focus on developing renewable energy sources that create less waste, perhaps 1/3 of all R&D money spent.

The proposed $54 billion of loan guarantees to the nuclear industry in the FY2011 budget is a terrible start to a clean energy future. First, without changing the laws to allow, and perhaps require, pebble bed reactors, we would be installing second rate technology, which will not further our goal of creating cutting edge jobs in cutting edge industries. Second, the Congressional Budget Office has said it believes as much as 50% of the loans could default. This is a terrible gamble that even banks don't want to take. Why should the American taxpayer take it?

I hope you will follow through on your intention to use the best available information to make decisions, and withdraw your support for this boondoggle. We can have a clean energy future, and cutting edge nuclear power, without throwing $54 billion of unconditional loan guarantees at the nuclear power industry.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely,
Katie Kadwell
Seattle, WA

Yup

2010-01-31T21:28:00.000-08:00

I saw this bumper sticker today and cracked up. It pretty much sums up what the Republicans have to offer their country these days: absolutely nothing.

War: Suffer The Little Children

2010-01-29T21:42:00.000-08:00

I started this post back on July 10, 2009. I have no idea now where I was going with it. I remember it seemed very profound at the time, but I can't even finish the last sentence.

I was eight years old when the first Star Wars movie came out. It was a very big deal for me and my family to go, and I remember everyone, especially my brother, was very excited to see the film. Everyone, that is, except me. I didn't like the word "war" in the title, that indicated to me that it would be two hours of glamorizing violence, which I was then and still am very much against. (Not withstanding my own personal temper tantrums, which I'm happy to say have grown almost non existent over the last several years.)

In any case, I have always hated anything resembling war, and have refused to understand anything about "why" we need to go to war at a particular moment. To me it's always seemed like a bunch of kids fighting in their little sandbox, except they get to grab a bunch of unsuspecting other kids to actually go and do the real fighting and risk their lives. At the end of the day, war is just a plain waste: a waste of lives, a waste of resources, a waste of energy. I realize that all the geopolitical layers are more complex than a playground fight, and that international relationships are more complex than those we have with our family and friends, but I think something can be gained from a bit of comparison.

We all get angry, and most of us have been angry enough to hit someone or throw something. Whether we act on that desire is another question. And, whether we act on that desire determines how

Letter to Representative McDermott

2010-01-28T21:30:00.000-08:00

In an effort to blog more regularly, I'm going to start posting my letters to politicians. I seem to write a lot of them lately, and since I seem to have trouble finding the time to write blog posts, I figure I'll post whatever writing I am doing. Here goes:

Dear Representative McDermott:

I'm writing today to thank you for co-sponsoring H.R. 1310, the Clean Water Protection Act. As you know, if passed, it will restore protections recently gutted by the Bush administration and the Supreme Court.

I am deeply saddened by the damage already done in Alaska as a result of the 2009 Supreme Court decision. It is my fervent hope that this act will become law and we will once again protect the cleanliness of one of our most precious resources, our water.

Thank you for your vigilant work to protect the environment.

Sincerely,
Katie Kadwell

Urban Vegetable Gardening

2009-06-12T18:07:00.000-07:00

broken glass cutting
disintegrating carpet
rich black fibrous dirt

The Zen of Gardening & Why I Love It

2009-05-01T14:49:00.000-07:00

I've been busy outside and inside lately, though I have several posts on the way... here is an excellent story from Stuart McLean, host of the Vinyl Cafe, about the vagaries of hard gardening. Click on the link below and you'll see a list of samples, the one to listen to is "Tree Planting".

http://www.zunior.com/product_info.php?products_id=1569

Pure Hogwash

2009-03-22T12:05:00.000-07:00

We continue to hear about "socialism" and "class warfare" in reference to Obama's intention to allow the Bush tax cuts to expire for the top income brackets. This is absolute rubbish. Most everyone, including Adam Smith, Andrew Mellon, and even G.W. himself has professed support for progressive taxation. The idea being that, the more one benefits from the social and economic structure as it is, the more one ought to be giving back. However, the Bush era tax reforms arguably made our tax structure less progressive, not more. We also hear that the proposed tax hikes on households making $250,000 and over will "hurt small business". Ain't necessarily so. The definition of "small business" is varied, but no matter how it's defined, most small business owners make less than $250,000 per year. The rub, however, according to some folks, is the fact that raising taxes on the upper income brackets has the effect of taxing about 2/3 of small business income. These are the folks who want to avoid taxing capital at all costs, apparently even at the cost of bringing down the financial system altogether.

Here's how I see it: Certainly taxing capital too much can have a dampening effect on innovation and economic growth. We need to reward risk to some degree. Rewarding risk is part of what makes our system in the U.S. different from everywhere else, and why we are leading the world in health care innovation as well as cost. But taxing capital too little leads us into a top heavy system, with an unsustainable chasm between the haves and have nots. It also, in my estimation, leads to exactly the kind of economic collapse we're experiencing right now. Too much capital sloshing around the economy needs somewhere to go, leading in turn to more and more exotic "investments". This phenomenon is very well outlined in an episode of This American Life titled "The Giant Pool of Money".

Finally, this is a tax on profits, not gross income. Therefore, any enterprising person whose business is netting somewhat more than $250,000 could theoretically come up with myriad ways to invest a few (or many) more thousand a year and come in under the limit. Hire a few more people. Invest in new equipment. Weatherize your building, if you have one. To my mind this kind of a tax hike, especially in this climate, makes sense not only because it puts more of the tax burden where it belongs (on the folks who are benefiting most from our economic system), but because it can encourage more investment in the "real economy": e.g. labor, durable goods, and innovative services. And in a time when the basic foundations of our economy are shifting due to environmental and other concerns, small business owners would do well to spend money positioning themselves to respond profitably.

A postscripted "Deep Thought"...I love this quote, which I discovered thanks to the paraphrasing of an FB friend:

"I like to pay taxes. With them, I buy civilization."
-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Spring

2009-03-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

Spring is poking its lovely little head out of the wet earth today. Willow and I went out and about, in a frosty, sunny morning that turned to a bright, cool afternoon. A perfect Seattle spring prelude. The crocuses are out, and even a few daffodils and one of my favorites, miniature daffodils. As we sat on the bus and I took in the weather, I realized that spring, by the calendar, is only a little over two weeks away. Two weeks plus one day, to be exact. It's been a relatively dry winter, it's seemed to me, and on Wednesday we had one of our quintessential romantic Seattle winter days, warm, cozy, gray, and drizzly. The kind of day where you can walk outside and soak yourself without even noticing.

I've been dilly-dallying and haven't gotten as much done building our vegetable beds as I'd like. I have some cover crop seed waiting to be planted, though it's probably a week or so before I could plant it. I also still have several plants to move. I managed to move the two biggest ones, a Rosa Nutkana (one of our native roses) and a Symphocarpus Albus (snowberry, another native). But when we went down the path today on the way out of the front yard, I noticed that one of the Mahonias (tall Oregon grape) is showing some flower buds. The one that is budding is the larger one, I have a smaller one that is not budding and luckily that is the one that I want to move. But the buds were a little prick of reminder that time is short for easy transplanting... I don't want to stress the plant to much by moving it while it's in flower, and I want to take advantage of the last of the rains. I did also get one of my two pots of Clarkia amoena in the ground, they're looking alright but not particularly robust. We'll see how they go. I don't necessarily think they are too stressed or were potted for too long, but the leaves are reddish. I'm hoping the red is due to the cold and not stress. I'll be looking for some new green leaves to come out soon, but hopefully not too soon. With the unseasonable warmth we had earlier in the week, and now the overnight and morning frosts, we're sure to get lots of bud and fruit damage this year on the less hardy plants.

Watercolor

2009-03-05T21:23:00.000-08:00

As an erstwhile artist and someone who wants to learn to draw someday, I really love a well illustrated children's book. Two books we've been reading lately are A Fawn in the Grass and Off We Go!. I noticed that they both were done in watercolor. I've always loved that layered style of watercolor that takes full advantage of its translucency, and these books really do that. Even if you don't have kids, they're both worth checking out for the illustrations. Off We Go! is written by Jane Yolen, author of the "How Do Dinosaurs..." series. That series also has fun illustrations by Mark Teagu e, but they're not the same style at all. I dearly love that light watercolor style. The illustrator of A Fawn in the Grass is Keiko Narahashi, who endearingly has a childhood picture for her author photo. Laurel Molk illustrated Off We Go!, which is really gorgeously layered though not quite as delicate as Narahashi's work.

Also, the story of A Fawn in the Grass is very moving: the author, Joanne Ryder, had a doe come into her yard and give birth. The fawn stayed in the yard for several weeks, and the mother returned every night. They let the grass grow long so the fawn could hide safely until it became strong enough to go off with its mother. One of these days I want to take a watercolor painting class. After I learn to draw.

Whiteness

2009-03-04T14:25:00.000-08:00

Oh, my gosh. I'm whiter than I could have ever imagined. I fancy myself somewhat "multicultural", given that I grew up in a predominantly black inner-city neighborhood, went to inner-city public schools, and took the bus to get places not only through most of my growing up years but also now, since our family does not own a car. But alas, I have found out that I am white, white, white. At least, according to the website Stuff White People Like. Some of the things I like on the list are yoga, The Wire, religions (their) parents don't belong to, not having a TV, and the idea of soccer. At least there are a few things on the list I definitely don't like, such as Apple products, knowing what's best for poor people, and shorts. Well, now my life will be devoted to accepting myself in all my whiteness. Which, I'm just sure, is a very white thing to do.

Frustration & Gratitude

2009-03-03T15:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I really just want some time to myself. Like this afternoon... we went to the indoor gym at the community center this morning, and out to lunch on the way home, and then by 1:30 we were home for nap time. I suppose I should have taken a queue from the fact that immediately after lunch she started asking emphatically to go back to the community center and play, but I was on a mission to get her to sleep so I could have some quiet time to myself and do some chores around the house.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I did have about 5 hours yesterday to myself. I just started doing a swap with another mom who has a little girl about Willow's age, and it's working out wonderfully. Yesterday was my day, and I spent the time dusting, vacuuming, and listening to the radio. Both of Willow's grandma's are coming into town next week, and I'm working on getting the place a bit more presentable. And the dust is, well, thick. So I listened to NPR (trying to locate a particular sentence I heard last week, to no avail), dusted, put through some laundry, and vacuumed some of the neglected corners. I love that time, and enjoyed it thoroughly, but of course didn't get done all I wanted to and had also a kitchen full of dishes that I left untouched. Which I was hoping to get to, like, an hour ago. **Sigh**

So, I spent more time than I really ought to trying to get her to sleep, because I just couldn't conceive of the afternoon without that interlude. Most times I don't mind much when she doesn't nap, but today I just couldn't let it go. Until I took her out in the stroller and watched as she kept leaning more and more forward in response to me tilting the stroller back so she would rest her head. That was the moment I realized a nap was not in the cards.

Now, I'm sitting here in the living room typing this while Willow watches a video, so I guess I am having that time to myself anyway. And I have an early bedtime to look forward to, which means dinner time is coming up forthwith. I think we'll be having Boboli pizza tonight.

Subconsciousness

2009-02-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

I read somewhere, I think in the book The Scientist in the Crib, that memory as we understand it consciously doesn't begin to occur in the brain until around 3 years old. I don't remember exactly how it was described, but basically what I recall is that we have memory before the age of three, but it isn't the kind of memory we have as we get older. The kind of memory we're used to, where we have little stories in our heads that we look at as if we're outside ourselves. Our lives become, as we grow up, a series of these kinds of stories. Before 3, however, our memories are more "in the moment", less self conscious. For example, an infant or toddler will remember from day to day where things are placed in the house, or the order of bedtime rituals. But (this is my rather foggy interpretation) young children before the age of three don't yet see themselves outside themselves; they have no perspective of themselves as part of their story. So, it is very unusual to have conscious memories of ourselves before the age of three. I personally don't have independent memories from much before four.

So, as I was thinking about this one day I began to form an idea that everything that happens in our first few years becomes part of our subconscious mind. Part of that murky space where dejavu happens, part of that dark little garden where our deepest passions grow and our silent fears lay dormant. This was a rather terrifying thought for me... the idea that I could have so much power over another person's deepest underlayments was dizzying. And when I have this thought in my consciousness, I try extra hard to be more patient, more loving, and keep my countenance positive and appealing. It was much easier for me to do this in the first months after Willow was born. As infants, we all are so obviously more vulnerable, and so different from older humans. But now that Willow is walking, talking, yelling, and doing all the things two year olds do, I see her more like me and less like an infant. So sometimes I forget my responsiblity as a primary architect of the substance of her subconscious. Regretfully, I yell sometimes, or get mad and say mean things. Not often, but sometimes. I do sometimes wonder about how I might be contributing to Willow's little slice of darkness. And I do everything in my power to ensure my good moments continue to far outweigh the bad... to give her lots of light to carry too.

What I've Been Doing This Week

2009-02-06T22:52:00.000-08:00

Well, aside from being sick and being with Willow, I've been wringing my worn out little hands over the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009, aka the economic stimulus. I've written and called my senators and my representative. Two or three times, in fact. I also wrote a letter to Minority Leader Senator McConnell. And a letter to the editor of the Wall Street Journal. The letters I sent to Senators Patty Murray and Maria Cantwell, and to Representative McDermott, were submission style emails that I did not save. Because I spent multiple sittings drafting it, I do have a copy of my letter to Senator McConnell, as well as my letter to the Wall Street Journal. I've pasted the text of both below for your amusement, edification, what have you. Enjoy.

To the Editor of the Wall Street Journal:

The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 is certainly not a perfect bill. However it is a very good bill, and follows what many economists say we need, which is a proportion of about 2/3 direct spending and 1/3 tax cuts. Some have focused attention on minuscule portions of the bill, such as smoking cessation programs, which take up less than one-ten-thousandth of the total spending. It is ridiculous to focus on these details as if that is the bill's primary direction.

A prudent combination of direct spending, tax incentives, and regulation has been historically proven to work in stimulating and growing the U.S. economy. We are in a time of huge upheavals economically and otherwise, from the continuing development of global commerce to the nascent development of the "green" economy. Government investment in the country's infrastructure during these kinds of upheavals, such as our system of land grant universities, the national railroad, and our national highway system, has proven to be a catalyst for further development by the private sector.

Necessary investments in our short term economic health as well as the research and development needed to put our country back in a competitive place globally is well laid out in the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. Without this bill, our downward slide is sure to continue.

To Senator McConnell:

Dear Senator McConnell:

I am writing to you in your role as Senate Minority Leader, and appreciate your taking the time to read this even though I am not one of your constituents.

I am concerned about the position you and your Republican colleagues have taken on the stimulus plan currently under consideration. I do think your idea of offering low interest loans to qualified borrowers to help stimulate housing demand is a good one, and I hope to see that in the final bill.

However, I have so far been very disappointed in the overall Republican reaction to the proposed stimulus plan. Certainly we want to be careful when spending large amounts of money, and we don't want wasteful or gratuitous programs. On the other hand, some of the things that have been said, such as calling the plan a "Christmas list" are insulting and demeaning to American people who are in real trouble. I personally know people who are out of work or will soon be, and we need to take action now.

Yes, some of the money is going to things like healthcare and education, things that we don't traditionally think of as stimulating the economy in the short term. However these are necessary investments if we are to regain and keep our competitive edge in a global economy. We can no longer afford to send our children to schools whose buildings are falling apart, with teachers whose knowledge is out of date. We can no longer afford the drain on our GDP from people with poor or no healthcare being sick and unable to work. In the short term, investments in education and healthcare will prevent many people from losing their jobs, which will help keep the economy from sliding further and improve consumer confidence. I also believe that investing in healthcare and education could give our foreign borrowers some assurance that we are looking toward a more certain and prosperous future.

I also see the investments in infrastructure as stimulating to the economy in both the short and long term. Many folks who have been put out of work in the construction industry will be able to get back to work as large projects that have been waiting for funds can go on line. In the longer term we’ll be investing in the movement of people, goods, and services as we repair and update our roads and bridges and expand mass transit. In addition we’ll be getting on the road toward reducing our impact on the global environment, as we invest in mass transit and other “green” aspects of the economy. The “green” economy is also in its infancy, which offers great possibility for the application of American ingenuity and I think is an excellent area in which to begin regaining our global competitive edge. If Andrew Carnegie were alive today I think he would be investing in green energy and mass transit.

I realize there are experts on both sides, some saying we should spend more than the current bill lays out, some saying less, some saying we should take out all tax cuts, some saying we need more tax cuts, ad infinitum. I personally think that when lots of experts sit on both sides of an issue, the proposed action is probably a good compromise. I certainly understand your need, along with your colleagues, to make your objections known and I do understand the fears about borrowing too much and getting ourselves into deeper trouble. I share those fears up to a point. However, the current bill I believe is, though not perfect, an overall good bill and will help us begin to dig ourselves out of the hole we’re currently in. I hope you will use your position as Senate Minority Leader and help bring around some of your colleagues to help pass this bill quickly.

Thank you for your kind attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

Katie Kadwell

Seattle, Washington

Setting Aside Childish Things

2009-01-20T08:31:00.000-08:00

For the record, I have at times, especially in the past few months, felt a bit of pity for George W. Bush. He is, to my mind, someone who wants very much to do what he sees as right, but who doesn't know (or really care) how to get the results he wants in a complicated world. He wants very much for the world to be as simple as he perceives it is. He appears incapable of finding a way to comprehend it even just a little bit more, so instead he works as hard as he can to make the world into what he says it is. Of course, this is an activity reserved only for the very privileged and very powerful. If he had lived a different life, a life more like the one most of us live, he would not have the luxury of attempting such futile architecture, especially at the expense of so many people all over the globe.

Last week's Domestic Disturbance blog entry by Judith Warner, "Bauer and Bush, Running on Empty", to me captures very well the essence of what we are left with courtesy of our former President. Even though I have never watched the show "24", I was moved by Warner's assessment of the Bush years, and how his personality affected his egregious actions. And though I know I will continue at times to feel pity for the man, I was also very moved by this poem, which was comment number 7 in the blog:

let’s save pity
for the millions of victims
of bush’s conscience.

for bush
there ought to be
only howls of ’shame’
execrations, and
a speedy trial
where he stands in the dock
with his co-conspirators and -perpetrators.

he is the best proof
of the truth
of his argument
that there actually is
such a thing
as evil

— Steve Elkind

I won't weigh in right now on whether I think Bush is evil. But I think another bit of Warner’s piece is instructive: she discusses briefly Pema Chodron and her work. Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist nun, talks about seeking out and using our fears and discomforts in order to grow, to become bigger people, to open up and feel compassion for all humanity. She calls this “leaning into the sharp points of fear”. I believe this kind of uncomfortable search for what makes us who we are when all the lights are out, all the ice cream is gone, and there’s nothing on TV but infomercials, this is the search that gives us meaning and keeps us going in the darkest of times.

And as I sit listening to the children's choir heralding the Inauguration of our new President, Barack Obama, I feel like we are entering out of the darkness and into, at least, some sort of twilight. Obama somehow, as my mother said on the phone this morning, has been able to “galvanize our hopeful selves” in a way that I have not seen in my lifetime. Obama himself, and the whole Obama family, I think embodies the Chodron idea. He grew up bi-racial in a racist society; when he was born his parents would not have been able to sit on the bus together in many parts of our country. As we enter into some very difficult times for humanity working to heal so many violent rifts across the globe, dredging ourselves out of the economic bog we’ve created, and working to stop global warming and the calamities that go along with that, I think President Obama offers us an example of how we can as a people rise to the occasion, make the necessary sacrifices, and make our world a better place.

Certainly Obama’s race brings a new perspective to the White House, and has a lot to do with the jubilation that has accompanied his election and today his Inauguration. Though there are many who see his bi-racial heritage, the fact that his father is Kenyan and not African-American, and the privileges he had growing up a bit better off than many inner city blacks in this country, and say he can’t represent them. But his race is not the whole story. I don’t agree with everything Obama stands for, and I’m sure I’ll continue to disagree with him at times. And that too is beside the point. The point is that we are all one people, we are all one family, and as a country we can come together and realize that our common good means much more than any beefs we may have with one another. And Obama, right now, at this time in our history, seems to embody this truth of our common good not just for our country but for folks all across the globe. Let us each answer the call to hope and find our own kernel of goodness.

Not Pretty Enough

2008-12-26T19:13:00.000-08:00

The title of this post is taken from one of my favorite Kasey Chambers songs. You can see the video here. Be patient, it takes about 20 seconds to load. When the video is over you'll need to press pause or navigate from the page, it loops automatically.

Some days I just feel fat and ugly, no matter what. It was such a day a few days ago, the day that Brent and I did our final Christmas shopping and I tried on a sweater I liked. I decided to buy it even though I thought I would look much better in it at about 15 pounds lighter. It is a red sweater, and I wanted to wear red this Christmas for some inexplicable reason. (Anyone who knows me knows I don't generally dress to be "festive", and I've been known to wear mourning clothes for Christmas.)

Anyway, that night Brent and I were surfing the web together in our Des Moines hotel room as dear Willow slept, and he came across a slide show "When Stars Have a Bad Day". Some of the shots are just normal aging, so whatever... some of them though are totally gross shots of women who have done way, way, way to much to try to look good (or just "partied" too much), ruining their bodies in the process. Check out #s 8, 13, 14, 17, 24, and 25 especially. These are some sad pics, especially, to me, a child of the 80's, the pictures of Madonna. I know it's kind of mean in a way, but if you are ever feeling fat and ugly, these are the pictures for you, guaranteed you will end the gawk session feeling better about yourself. And happy about the fact that you have not tried to lose weight to much, too fast. Or gotten to many lifts of whatever sort. Or worn your heels too high for too long.

But then I started feeling crappy about the sadness of it all. I loved Madonna in her heyday, and have always appreciated her scrappy attitude toward authority, including self-proclaimed authorities on fashion. She also had a real body, not chubby at all but muscular, gorgeous, tight, and real. You could imagine knowing someone, maybe even more than one, with a body like that. Now, she has taken on that look of a woman who is aging without grace, without acceptance, and possibly (seriously) without food. The picture of her in this slide show shows her looking, well, really anorexic. I am saddened by the apparent dissolution of her confidence. She was never an especially well balanced personality, being well known for her arrogance and intense hunger for fame, but to my teenage eyes she was tough, no nonsense, and didn't take crap from anyone, making her obvious faults very forgivable. But this picture shows her just looking sad, drained, worn out, spent, and done for. Ah, I do cry for you Madonna.

An Open Letter to Barack Obama and Pastor Rick Warren

2008-12-21T14:01:00.000-08:00

Dear President-Elect Obama and Pastor Rick Warren:

I was at first dismayed and appalled at the idea of Rick Warren delivering the invocation at your inauguration. When I first heard of the choice I must admit I was incredulous that you would give someone who, despite his intelligence in some matters, appears to wish gays and lesbians did not exist. As of merely couple of weeks ago, the Saddleback church did not welcome "unrepentant" gays and lesbians, and even has had an outreach program to "help" gays and lesbians choose a heterosexual lifestyle.

But then a few important things happened. Pastor Warren, you displayed the courage of your convictions when you stood up to folks who did not want you delivering the invocation for someone such as Barack Obama, who has stood very clearly for overall civil rights for the LGBT community (to the unfortunate exclusion of full marriage). You also accepted an invitation to dinner from Melissa Etheridge, a prominent lesbian who is married and has children, and who has been very outspoken in defense of marriage rights for same sex couples. I applaud you for having the courage to act in a Christ-like way and open yourself up to knowing and loving people you may disagree with deeply.

President-Elect Obama, I am glad America is getting a President like yourself, someone who is willing to stick his neck out and make hard decisions, who is willing to challenge his base in order to further dialog on important issues such as LGBT rights, as well as to make common cause with someone such as Pastor Warren. Not only did Pastor Warren omit some of the most egregious text on church website within a few days of the controversy breaking open, he also does much more for the poor and disadvantaged of the world than most. His practice of reverse tithing (giving 90% of his income instead of 10%) and his work to help those with HIV/AIDS are admirable.

However, I must publicly take issue with you both on your positions regarding same sex marriage. President-Elect, I was a little disappointed, yet only slightly surprised, to read in your book The Audacity of Hope that you "believe that American society can choose to carve out a special place for the union of a man and a woman as the unit of child rearing most common to every culture."

Even though you do go on to state that you support full legal rights for same sex couples (hospital visitation, property rights, etc.), this is cold comfort to those who want the recognition of their secular and/or spiritual communities as married couples. Denying this recognition I think is not only gratuitous, but also cruel. Especially doing it in the name of "a special place... for child rearing". According to the "State of Our Unions 2007" by the Marriage Project at Rutgers University, marriage as an institution is in decline overall, and large numbers of children grow up in single parent or otherwise "fragile" households.

In this environment, then, it seems nonsensical to deny the right to marry to a population who could, conceivably, renew the institution and offer loving, two parent households to children with the same security and rights that opposite sex couples can offer their children. Furthermore, in this time of tight budgets, why not simply open marriage up to same sex couples, instead of starting what would surely be a cumbersome process of creating an entirely new legal category called "civil union"? If you truly do believe in giving the same rights to same sex couples, I see no legitimate reason not to call it "marriage".

Of course, we could instead drop marriage altogether as a legal category, call all unions "civil unions", and let the religious institutions do the marrying. However, I think this would be more cumbersome than simply opening up marriage, and also smacks of a sort of "if we can't keep it for ourselves, then no one can have it."

I hope you will both do some serious soul searching in the months to come and change your positions on same sex marriage. It seems to me fairly certain that within the next generation same sex marriage will become a reality in this country. Which side of history do you want to be on?

Wondrous Snow

2008-12-13T22:19:00.000-08:00

As I write this it's been snowing now for over 2 hours here in Seattle. It is dark out, and the snow is glowing in the air as it falls. Willow and Brent are asleep in the bedroom. I had to get up and take pictures of the garden, and cover a few plants. I have some Clarkia amoena given to me by another native plant enthusiast in gallon containers, and though it is hardy I wanted to be sure to protect the seedlings since the pots are currently full of tiny leafy little plants. When we return from our trip to the Midwest at the end of December I'll plant them in the ground as soon as the weather permits.

Though I despise the cold, I have always loved snow. The way it cleans everything up, and reminds us of who we are in the world. The silence of the glistening flakes, each one unique, falling to the ground. The way the new snow glows and lights up the night sky. The cozyness of being inside as the snow falls outside. The adventure of snow angels and incalculably tall mounds made by snow plows. The skiing. And tonight, the wonder of our dear daughter as she looked at the snow falling and kept repeating, long past her bedtime, "It nofing outide, it nofing outide!" We always say goodnight to our dog, who pretty much lives outside, and goodnight to the outside, before we have "night night time". As I took her outside to say goodnight, we saw the snow and I told her about it. She has seen snow before, but this is her first time being old enough to really experience it fully. Brent went outside and brought some snow in for Willow to hold, and we watched it melt together in Brent's hand and then in Willow's hand. The look on her face... well, I wish sometimes that I had a video camera implanted in my eyes. I love to watch her little face light up with amazement and wonder, and that it did tonight as she held the snow and watched it melt.

Even more amazing is that, though she went to the window many times as I read her her bedtime stories and rocked her in the rocking chair, she actually consented to lie down not too far after her usual bedtime, and went to sleep. Brent suggested that tomorrow she might catch some snowflakes on her tongue, if it is still snowing. She was all about that as she ran back and forth from the rocker to the window, talking about the snow. I hope it keeps on snowing.

The Weaning Continues

2008-12-03T21:21:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm sitting in my living room typing this as my lovely and dear husband lies down next to our dear and sweet daughter, waiting for her to finally sleep. This past week or so since weaning, Willow has been going to bed late and having a bit of trouble with sleeping... finding everything to distract her from the task at hand. If she has milk in her sippy, she wants it exchanged for Pediasure. If it's Pediasure, it must be exchanged for "plain milk". No matter how many dolls and animals are on the bed, of course it is the one that is left in the living room or tucked into her play oven that she must have, NOW. For the first few nights with no mama milk I gave her a bit of leeway, going back into the kitchen or the living room once or twice for supplies. But after that little grace period, I stopped the practice and instead I make a big to-do about getting everything before entering the bedroom... which liquid in the sippy, which animal to take into the bedroom, which book, does she have her binky.

Not surprisingly, that helps alleviate any of my own possible guilt, but still and all Willow knows how to party hearty until the rooster crows if she isn't reigned in. She'll want to switch to the rocker from the bed. Or to the bed from the rocker. Or go from mommy & daddy's bed to Willow's bed. Or back again. And on and on.

Brent just came out of the bedroom... at only 9:30! She's been typically not falling asleep until 10 or 10:30. He said he "laid down the law", and wouldn't let her change sides of the bed or get in the rocker or...

I like this daddy putting to bed thing, very luxurious for me! It can only happen when Brent comes home from work early, since he often doesn't get off from work until 9 or 9:30 at night. But on nights when he'll be home earlier, I'll be doing the first part of bedtime: reading the stories, tucking into bed, and lying down for 15 minutes. Then Brent will come in after we've been lying down for 15 minutes. I think it's going to work like a charm.

Willow has been amazing about weaning. She will ask to nurse sometimes, and she will cry about it sometimes, but when asked "Do you still get mama milk?" She always says "No". We talk about missing mama milk, and that it's ok to feel sad, but now there is "No more mama milk".

Time Passes

2008-11-22T07:21:00.000-08:00

Wow, how did it get to be November... I'm sitting at Starbucks at 7:21, sipping tea and typing. Today is the second day of my 40th year, and the first day of no more mama milk for Willow. I got out of bed at 4:40 this morning, in hopes of making things easier. Willow generally wakes up between 4 and 5 for a little nip before she goes back to sleep, and then again once or twice before finally getting up around 7 or 8. So, on this day, I got up, got dressed and ready to go, packed my laptop and Brent's earphones, my toothbrush, comb, and a few other things, and headed out the door at about 5:45.

The first bus on a Saturday morning stops a half block from our house at 6:01. It is always packed and standing room only. Packed with folks who are just getting on the first bus of the day, packed with nurses and construction workers on their way to work, packed with students going to class or work or somewhere to study.

I was nervous as I crept around the house hoping Willow would remain asleep at least until I left. She did wake up, however, only moments after I got out of bed, but I dutifully ignored her cries and went about my business, having been told by Brent in no uncertain terms that he could, indeed, handle the situation. She didn't cry nearly as long or as hard as I was afraid she might. I was relieved, but also had pangs of feeling a little superfluous, visions of what's to come, I suppose, as my darling girl needs me less and less.

I never envisioned weaning Willow myself, I always had in mind that she would wean on her own, in her own time. However, when I had these soft-focus, halcyon visions I didn't have a clue about the difficulties of nursing even in the best of circustances, much less the changes that would happen as Willow grew out of infancy and into toddlerhood. My determined thoughts of "I would never allow THAT", meaning all the groping, twiddling, and disrobing I had witnessed among my nursing friends with their own toddlers, dissolved in the harsh light of Willow's insistence and my own inability to set some firm boundaries with the little girl I carried, bore, and am now helping to raise. The truth of having had her in my belly all those months, the unimaginable depth of bond which occurred during and shortly after her birth, and her beguiling little face all converged to make it nearly impossible for me to set limits on the nursing. I did, of course, begin to set some limits. After a while I stopped nursing her in public with very few exceptions (e.g. the doctor's office). I began to dislodge her twiddly, pinchy little fingers from the opposite breast, a habit that annoyed me no end. I talked to other moms I knew and asked them about their weaning stories. The biggest thing I found was that the idea of the child weaning herself, all on her own, is largely a myth. Some moms I've talked to have talked of their child self-weaning around a year, and one friend of mine has a daughter who just weaned this summer, shortly before entering kindergarten. But between 1 and 5, if a child weans it is usually not of his own accord. My friend whose daughter just recently weaned at just shy of 5 years is the most ideal of weaning stories, as I had originally envisioned. And this friend is one of the few moms I've talked to who was able to set boundaries early, firmly, and without guilt. She began setting boundaries even when her daughter was still a baby by most standards: older than a year, but not yet into toddlerhood with all its attendant habits and quirks. And, finally, her little girl gave up the one or two nursings a day, it went down to once a day or every other day, and then nothing. This is an unusual story, and its main instructive value for me was that I had a decision to make. I could wait until Willow was somewhere between 4 and 6 and see what happened, or I could wean her myself. In all this I realized another piece of my little ideal scenario: that Willow would wean by about 3. I was not prepared in any way to continue nursing her through her preschool years. I have admiration for moms who do that, but I knew that was not me, and already I was losing patience with the whole business and Willow wasn't even two. And in everything that Brent read on the subject the point he kept finding repeated over and over was that by 18 months, at 2, 3, or even 4 children generally will not choose to wean themselves.

One mom I talked to had begun to use a ticket system when her daughter was about two and a half. She allowed the little girl 5 tickets a day, one of which would need to be saved for bedtime. This worked well for them but I knew that, given her age, it would be a stretch for Willow to grasp that once the tickets were gone so was mama milk for the day. Sometime in September, I think, I started using the tickets. I knew by then that I was moving toward weaning, but needed to get aligned internally with the whole idea, both intellectually and emotionally. Through many talks with Brent we had decided weaning would be best for everyone involved, but the more we talked about it the more I realized I needed some intermediate steps. As Brent put it, I would spend some time setting all kinds of boundaries and trying everything, and none of it would work, and then finally I would wean. This is essentially what happened, and though it was in some ways an interminably long few months from the time I first had an inkling that this was what I would need to do, I'm in a bit of disbelief that I've arrived at this time and place. Willow was at the breast the first moment she could be after she was born, and has nursed every day of her life. Other than Brent and myself, the nursing has been the biggest constant in her life so far. I'm still too close to it all, and too spaced out from getting up so early, to really feel the fullness of the feelings I know are there. But it's a mark of time today, how time passes so slowly and yet, when the moment we've been waiting for comes, all that time is suddenly gone.

We experimented and started with 10 tickets each day. This was a wake up call for me, who had thought I maybe nursed her 5-6 times a day. Really it was more like 10-12. I tested the waters and allowed her to use all her tickets one day before bedtime, and as I expected she did not understand that part of the ticket concept. As time went on I reduced it to 8 and then 7 tickets per day. This week we talked up the whole idea of no more mama milk, and told Willow that yesterday would be the last day. We had a little "good bye mama milk party", which shared a cake with my birthday, and sang a little "good bye mama milk" song, and had a milk bath (a bath I take with her, where she gets mama milk), all the while saying "last day of mama milk" or asking "do you get mama milk tomorrow?" At first she answered "yes", but then by bedtime last night she was answering "no". So, we know she has some small concept of what it all means, but she still says "ma-mook" for many things that she wants... if she wants crackers and I'm delayed in getting them, for example, she may start shrieking "maaa-moook!!!" rather than "caaaackoooos!!"

So time passes, time stands still, and now it's 8:20 and Old Navy opens in 40 minutes. As I listed all the things I would do with my delicious uninterupted time online this morning, I caught myself and remembered how fast the time would go and began to prioritize things in my head and align myself with the fact that I would not get all my emails cleared out, I would not get my blog fully updated, and I would not get all my little file folders entirely organized.

I'll close with a line from a favorite song by Kate Bush, "Jig of Life": "I put this moment here... I put this moment here... I put this moment here..."

Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtBZSIrmgiU

No Small Miracle

2008-04-30T21:50:00.000-07:00

Well, today we found out that the other twin also did not make it. Yesterday I went in for a routine prenatal exam, and our doctor couldn't find a heartbeat with her Doppler, so she scheduled us for an ultrasound this morning. I have two little babies there in my womb, neither of which are alive now. So now the decision is do I wait for a spontaneous miscarriage, or go in for a procedure? At first I was leaning toward letting nature take its course, but after talking with Brent and a few other close people, I'm thinking I'm going to get a procedure next week. We're going out of town on a well deserved long weekend to the ocean this weekend, so I'll opt to wait a few days, but I think at this point it's just best to have it done with and know that I'm all clear to try and get pregnant again. Even though when I got pregnant this last time we weren't "trying", now of course I'm wanting that second baby more than ever.

All this has really made me and Brent appreciate Willow so much more than ever, and is an important reminder of how miraculous life really is. Sure, it's a mundane thing, somewhere around 130 million babies are born every year. And one could argue, that is what humans are made to do, to reproduce, just like any other animal on earth. One could also say why would anyone want to bring a child into this overpopulated world, a world where so much ugliness happens each and every day, where in the U.S. any child born will surely use far more than his or her share of resources, just by being born in the most consumptive nation on earth.

And yet, what a miracle life is. We can look at all the people on the planet, all the babies born every year, and forget what those little cells go through to get here. It's an amazing and fragile thing, life, and especially when you consider the desire to have a little life and raise a little child to become a peaceful, happy, and productive adult. So many things have to happen for that little life to even make it out of the womb... and so many things can go wrong. So when we're blessed with a perfect little being at the end of long months of gestation, it is no small miracle. Our doctors feel elated each and every time they deliver a baby, and they've been delivering babies for at least 15 years each. I don't know how many babies they've delivered, but I've seen them at appointments just after a delivery, and they are infused with the miracle of life. Mundane as it may be, it's a miracle every time, and one to be treasured.

I feel so grateful today for Willow and all the children in my life. Willow couldn't be more sweet, or adorable, or fun. At the doctor today Brent and I both cried of course when we found out for sure that both babies had died. Willow was concerned that Mama was crying, and wiped her eyes in sympathy.

Later on, after dinner, she jumped with both feet off the ground for the first time, and she was so excited to show me! She came into the kitchen from the living room, demanding my attention, and showed me her jumping. Then, she wanted me to jump with her. I feel very lucky to have such a child in my life.

Whether we have children or not, or want children or not, we can never forget what a miracle life is... embodied not only in our own human children but in every living creature, each little flower that opens for us to see every spring, every leaf that unfurls, or egg that hatches... the miracle of life is one to remember and notice every day.

Milestones

2008-04-28T20:06:00.001-07:00

Oh, wow. I can't believe I've gone more than three months without an entry. Willow is going to be a big sister, which is very exciting for all of us. The new baby is due in October, ten days before Willow's birthday, and one day after her original due date. It was almost going to be twins... but one of them didn't make it. I was excited at the idea of twins, then really sad that one didn't make it... and now I'm just glad to be welcoming a new little one into the world soon, and also relieved that I won't have all the work involved with twins.

Because it happened early in the pregnancy it shouldn't complicate things too much; we'll have an extra ultrasound or two to make sure everything is in order, but we should be able to go ahead with our birth plan. Which is currently up in the air, but I'm leaning toward home or the birth center instead of the hospital. We'll see, though. There were a lot of things I liked about the hospital, even though it wasn't what I planned on. I'm just afraid I wouldn't be able to repeat the experience. The staff was very sensitive to the fact that we did not plan to give birth there at the hospital when Willow was born, and I don't know if they would be as hands off as they were in the case of a planned hospital birth.

There are so many more things to consider now with Willow. She is too young to be in the same room while I'm laboring, so her well being and security are big considerations as we decide which direction to go in. I just like the idea of home so much, being in my own space and being able to go to my own bed after the birth really sounds like the best thing to me, but I don't know how that might work with Willow, since it seems home may be the best place for her. So many questions.

I digress however... my inspiration for writing tonight was something Willow did today. She is having so much fun lately pretending, she loves to carry her play phones around the house and pretend to talk to Daddy, or our friend Barbara, or Grandma, even our friend Wendy's dog Sofia has been added to the list of regulars. She's been getting more involved with her pretending in the past week; she likes to "feed" her baby dolls and stuffed animals, and is getting interested in (trying) to dress and undress them. Today she really wanted something to stir in a bowl. She has a wooden spoon given to her for Christmas last year by her Aunt Nicole, and we've just begun allowing her to use it without intense supervision. Her original favorite thing to do with it was walk around with it in her mouth, which seemed like a trip to the emergency room waiting to happen. I gave her some seasoning salt which we've had for probably eight years now, and she proceeded to remove the cap (once I had unscrewed it enough for her to pull it off), put salt in her bowl, replace the cap, and stir. She stayed busy with this activity on and off all day long. Brent and I just stood and watched her this morning for several minutes, while she was intent on her activity.

Possibly the most exciting thing for me about her and the stirring wasn't even the stirring itself, but the fact that when I came to take video of her in action, and she as usual dropped what she was doing in favor of what I was doing, I showed her the bit I got on camera and then, on a lark, I told her I wanted to get video of her doing her thing. I asked her to go back and stir and do what she was doing... and she did! That was amazing, and fun. I really didn't think she would do it, but she's beginning to get the concept of photos and videos and what they do, and she loves watching videos of herself or other people doing everyday things. We watch a lot of youtube clips, of kids playing, pets doing crazy things, etc. So she went and did her thing, and I got a clip of it! You can subscribe to all our videos by going to http://www.youtube.com/katiekadwell.

Dreaming the River

2008-01-26T21:10:00.000-08:00

"...Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse
that sends me down to the river..."
Bruce Springsteen, "The River"

As I begin to look for part time work in the early morning, so that Daddy can be with Willow before he goes to work and we can bring in a bit more money, I've been thinking a lot about dreams. We all have so many dreams as we go through our lives, many of which we know will always remain dreams yet are treasured little gems that we keep, many of which we discard along the way, and some of which become reality.

My very close childhood friend has also been looking for a job; she has a four year old daughter and has been out of the work place for the past 5 years. She is a writer and so is of course conflicted, as I have been, about how to live life in a practical and realistic way while still pursuing her artistic goals. We've been commiserating a lot over the phone about the sorry state of our lives on paper, how our accomplishments look summed up on a resume, and trying to remember how much more there is than that.

One morning I was doing dishes and thinking about all of this and one of my all time favorite songs came on - Springsteen's "The River". My friend and I got really into him while we were in high school, and one of my most memorable times was when we went together with another friend and camped out for tickets, and the subsequent show. Perhaps it's the glow of fond memories as I look back, perhaps the intensity of young adulthood, but that concert was absolutely the best I've ever been to. I felt so thrilled and ecstatic after that concert, which, by the way, lasted close to 4 hours.

That night I saw my life stretching out before me like the open road, and we sat up late on radiator window seats in my friend's overheated all-utilities-paid apartment looking out at the city and talking about where we would live, who we would be... never imagining that we would end up living in different cities over 1600 miles apart, without the means to see each other nearly as much as we'd like.

But as I did dishes and listened to the song, belting out the lyrics with abandon for a reluctant audience of two, my life stretched out again before me, and I realized that although the dreams of that night hadn't exactly come true, there is yet another kind of dream we dream in our lives. Those are the dreams that we never pin down, the kind I had that long ago night... dreams that we feel as we watch a beautiful sunset or hike through a moss filled forest. Those are the dreams that have come true for me. My loving husband, who is a devoted father to our unspeakably wonderful daughter. All my friends and family, and of course Willow. I dreamt of being a mother for a long time, and now that I am it is far beyond what I could have imagined. The tense moments, the moments of exhaustion, the times when I feel I could explode, all melt away in the laughter, the big smiles, the wrestling around, and the surprising little things she does. Like this morning when Willow began taking silverware from the dishwasher and instead of tossing it onto the floor as I expected she would, she handed it to me to put away.

I'll close by sharing a story from an email a friend sent the other day. I received it as I was preparing to go to a job interview. It is called "The Invisible Mother"

"It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:

'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women."

Helping and more

2008-01-04T20:34:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted. So many things have happened, and yet the days go by, all seeming very much like all the others. Willow loves to help around the house. I dreaded this stage, having heard so many stories of young children's "help" (wiping the filthy rag all over the stove, scooping cat litter onto the floor), and yet it is very much fun and Willow is learning also how to be truly helpful. She is very good at pushing the laundry basket from room to room, and if asked will take it from the laundry room to the bedroom or vice-versa. (Though sometimes she does get caught up with something and leaves it in transit on the living room floor.) Lately Willow loves to take baths, it is one of her favorite activities. She has new bath toys for Christmas as well, from Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Jerry, and also from Cousin Micah (and his parents, Aunt Nicole and Uncle Frank). The other day I was preparing to wash out the tub for a bath, with Willow watching in anticipation, and I said "Oh, I need a cloth to wipe out the tub". As I stood up to go from the bathroom and get my cloth, I turned and saw Willow bringing me a cloth that she had been playing with from the living room. She handed it to me to wash out the tub! I was amazed that she made all those connections, and in such a short moment. She knew what I was saying, and knew she would have her bath once the tub was cleaned out, and she knew not only what the cloth was that I needed but where she had left one.

The week before Christmas we walked to our local Home Depot to get a rosemary shrub that was our tree this year. I wanted something I could plant, and I've been wanting a rosemary. Brent and I and Willow and Alley our dog went to the store, and by the time we were about half way home on about a 1.5 mile walk, Willow had been cooped up in a stroller or a cart for close to two hours. Though it was getting dark we decided we would allow her to walk on her own down the sidewalk for the first time. I think we both thought she would walk a little bit an be tired and ready to get back in the stroller. She walked and walked, and if we had let her I imagine she might have walked the rest of the way home! We picked her up to move things along at different times, and when she would fall we used that as an excuse to carry her again for a few blocks (it was getting dinner time and we were hungry). All in all she must have walked two blocks, which seemed a lot to me for a gal just starting out, and she loved it! Now we go to the park and walk around, as much as we can spare in between naps and walking the dog and getting food on the table... woe is Mama if dinner is late, Willow likes her vittles for sure.

We have been on a very conservative food introduction schedule as well, and were planning to wait (on the advice of our doctor) until 18 months to introduce most of the things folks introduce at 12, such as wheat and dairy. Well, that went out the window right around Christmas. We had been to a series of doctor's appointments to check her weight gain, which was not satisfactory. We began with more nursing and adding goat's and soy milk (neither of which she drank much of), and then adding avocado and a smoothie with protein powder. Those helped more than the goat & soy milk, and she gained enough that the doctor thinks we're now on the right track. But in the midst of all that Brent and I decided to just let go and make it easier to feed Willow, as well as take a bit of the drama out of the situation and give her cow's milk, wheat, cheese, everything except nuts for now. It was becoming a chore not only to find fattening things that she would enjoy (she got sick of avocado after about the third day of me trying to get her to eat 1/2 of one a day), but Willow was beginning to covet our food and refuse to eat hers.

She enjoys cow's milk (though still won't drink even a whole cupful in a day's time), and cottage cheese and grilled cheese, and chicken salad and her smoothies, and also loves to "eat" crackers and cheerios, which usually end up spit out on the floor somewhere. Gross. I am hoping this is a short phase and soon she will swallow what she puts in her mouth instead of spitting it onto the floor in favor of nursing, or worse yet, handing it to me. She also loves ice cream if it is not too cold, and steak. Her Minnesota and Iowa roots show there, I think.

Now I'm going to have to watch what I eat, since I've been making a lot of rich meals like Chicken & Corn Scallop (delicious, by the way, it's chicken atop a mix of milk, flour, and creamed corn, topped with crackers and butter, to be found in the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook), and Broccoli Cheese Casserole.

I am used to carrying her with one hand all over the place, and so is Brent, and he dances with her most mornings while I get breakfast. A while back I sprained my wrist or thumb (I must get to the chiropractor), from holding the gal who is really packing on the ounces! Last night Brent said he had the same thing happen to him yesterday. It looks like Willow is really gaining on us.

Though I still get annoyed and a little worried on days when she doesn't eat much. I am working on letting go of how much she eats and just making the food and putting it in front of her and enjoying the meal, but man, sometimes I get really annoyed when I spend an hour making dinner (a lot of which she is complaining to me about being hungry), and she takes two bites and wants out of her chair. Ahh, yes, the eternal struggles of motherhood laid bare. Somehow I thought it would never happen to me. Ha.

Amazing Grace

2007-11-16T21:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Willow was sick. She threw up for the first time... she woke up and was playing with us on the bed and suddenly started convulsing, and threw up all over the bed. Then she cried, of course... not knowing what was happening. Lucky for Mommy she only threw up twice, but was sick all day and though she is feeling better today, was still having diarrhea. I've been fighting whatever she got, and this afternoon I got sick too. My first time with the stomach flu with a baby by myself. I was worried that Willow would cry and be upset that Mommy was acting weird, sitting over the toilet bowl throwing up. Instead she joined in... she is starting to imitate everything we do, and she decided she had to stand over the bowl herself and made attempts at spitting into the toilet. It was the most hilarious, cutest thing... probably the first time in my life I've ever had a chuckle while I'm being sick.

The grace and joy Willow brings to our lives is immeasurable. On a day when all I would be doing is lying around feeling sorry for myself, I had to step out of myself and be with her. And she made it fun and enjoyable, not entirely an awful chore. Though I did call friends to get some sympathy, and asked one to come over to help me put delivered groceries away (she could not), Willow was a gem. Daddy left work two hours early to come home and organize the groceries that had been tossed unceremoniously into the fridge and straighten the house for tomorrow. He'll be at work again tomorrow, most likely... we're hoping this is a 24 hour thing, but if it's not he'll stay home.

I feel so grateful for my life, and for the lives of my friends and family.

Little Treasures

2007-10-30T20:43:00.000-07:00

So many things that Willow does just kill me, and they are only fleeting. I love the way she sits on the bed when she wakes up and waits for me, rubbing her eyes, her whole face really, and making this little buzzing sound. It is adorable and impossible to adequately describe, and something I'll probably never get a video of. I'm always thinking "I'd like to get a video of that...", and most times I do but obviously in the middle of the night when she wakes up and needs to be put back down is not a good time for recording. She is very intent and focussed on her games and ideas, and is starting to have Daddy and Mommy do things... she likes to have Mommy put on Daddy's hat, and she loves to have either of us drink water from our water bottles. This is a new one that just started today with Daddy. She may take a sip herself or not, but the main activity is handing the bottle to one of us and having us drink from it. And earlier today as I was vacuuming the floor, I picked up some of her alphabet blocks and put them in their box to move them out of the way, and she was very annoyed. Apparently she had taken them out of the box and did not want them put back! She is also starting to make games out of doing things she is not supposed to... taking diapers out of their box, for instance, when we say "no" she will wait until we're not looking and then reach for them, looking right at us to see if we say anything. Very interesting, and terrifying. She is going to have me jumping through a lot of hoops, I can tell. Today for the first time she handed me a book to read to her. That was very fun and wonderful, and we read it three or four times before she wanted to move on to something else. Ahh, the repetition is only beginning...

Schools continued and more

2007-10-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

As I've thought about it more I am realizing that it will become obvious as Willow gets older what her needs are as far as education. I suppose right now my task is to help her learn and experiment, and when the time comes we'll look at schools. Brent and I spoke about schools and he said something about language immersion that made a lot of sense to me, and I think hit on why the whole idea doesn't really resonate with me. He said that a language immersion program puts a huge emphasis on one thing, being language. I agree with that. And that is why I think I balked, it seems like such a great idea but then which language would I want to emphasize to that degree? Brent said it makes more sense if we traveled abroad more, but other than that why emphasize it that much, especially so early. And, it seems most of the language immersion preschools (that I hear about, I haven't done any of my own research) are French. Which is fine, but really, French? How practical is that? Spanish or Chinese make a lot more sense... even Hindi makes more sense than French. That's all I have to say on that topic right now.

I feel horrible to admit this, but Willow has been driving me crazy the past few days. She is teething, her 4 front teeth are coming in, so I must be empathetic but my god. Everything is a major drama, where usually she might protest a bit if I won't let her play with the object of the moment (sharp knife, box of tissues, a book I may not want destroyed), lately she just full on cries. This is something I'm not used to and is not fitting in with my plan. It is definitely not gelling with the mood I've been in lately anyway, which has been rather dark and I am not feeling very appreciative of the oncoming winter. I am not feeling much in a "being" place, which the gray days invite, instead I've been finding myself fighting that. So I've been feeling grumpy, and the babe is teething waking up more than usual at night, in addition to walking more and more so she is not interested in things like eating and sleeping, which makes her grumpy also. Not a good pairing lately. I've been remembering babysitting and all the times I wondered why parents would be so impatient with their children, having that sort of dismissive snap to their voice, and now I know... it just gets old sometimes. Old in a way that cannot be known by anyone but a parent or someone who has cared for children day after day after day, full time. The constant desire to have everything except the approved toys, the continual demands, irrespective of my own needs like going to the toilet or having a meal. Old old old, it is feeling today. And yet I must remember how short this time is, Willow has already changed so much in this first year, gone from a newborn who couldn't even roll over or communicate except for crying to a walking, babbling, pointing little girl who loves her cat and her dog and communicates with sign language and little grunts and attempts at words. She loves to hug her animals and her baby dolls, and hates having her diaper changed. She tried to take off her shirt today at dinner and ended up with one arm in the shirt and one out, eating that way without a care. She loves avocados and bananas, and lately has not been liking tofu which she usually does, but she also loves canned beans. And someday soon she'll be talking and walking without falling, and she'll no longer be a baby. That time is so near... and though I don't know whether I'll miss the demands and whines and cries, I know I'll miss the babbling and shrieking and sweet little noises that will inevitably give way to talking.

As I close, I must mention the savior this week as I've been in my dark mood. The Daddy, Brent, has been so wonderful and spent a lot of time around home with us, which has been very nice. He's taking a bit of a break from writing since he's finished his book, and it has been really sweet to watch Willow bond with him even more. She really has fun with her Daddy and they have special games they play together that I don't do. He is also very good at helping her settle down and go back to sleep when I've had my fill in the middle of the night. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful husband, and Willow is a very lucky little girl to have such a daddy.

Schools

2007-10-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

Now that Willow is one year, and we've had such a wonderful day today on her birthday, I have to find something to worry about. I am thinking about schooling. I loved school up until about 8th grade, when I began to go to "traditional" schools. Up until then I had been in "open" schools, which was interdisciplinary and did not involve moving from class to class every hour, instead we usually had one or two teachers for most of the day. One of my favorite memories is of making American Indian villages in 5th grade. We each were assigned to groups and had to research all the aspects of a particular tribe, and make a model village based on our research. It was really fun and involved all the senses, which I think is really important in education.

As I begin to look ahead to being a parent of a child in school, I balk both at the horrible schools out there and at the huge array of choices. Language immersion schools are popping up all over, even at the preschool level. I love the idea, but then I wonder if it's too much. And when they're so young, how do you know what they're getting out of the school? We go to a co-op preschool now, through the community colleges here in Seattle, and it's a wonderful program. I love the teachers and the teaching philosophy, which closely mirrors my own parenting philosophy. Willow seems to have a great time playing, and seems to be getting a lot out of the experience. But I'm already beginning to wonder what happens in kindergarten. There are so many schools to choose from, and so many that are crappy. To be continued...

A Thank You Note

2007-10-23T20:42:00.001-07:00

Continuing the theme of gratitude, I am thinking of all the friends and family members who have been there for us over the years and I feel so grateful. We had a beautiful baby shower last summer thrown by two close friends. So many people came and brought wonderful gifts for the baby. Over my pregnancy we received several handmade blankets, handmade hats and a handmade set by my aunt of booties, a bonnet, a sweater, and a blanket. We got so many clothes, books, and toys, both new and handed down that we didn't have to buy anything for about the first six months, except for diapers. We had meals brought to us for weeks while we rested with our new baby. Friends came to help us clean and spend time with Willow so that we could sleep. Two friends who live nearby have opened their home to my parents when they visit, and brought us meals every Sunday for about 2 months. Both grandmothers came to visit after Daddy went back to work, and helped with chores and made meals while I cared for Willow. Brent waited on me and Willow hand and foot the first two weeks, doing laundry, cooking, and walking the dog. Neighborhood friends from where I grew up gathered to celebrate Willow's birth, and friends of my mother's held a shower as well.

I remain in awe of the generosity and love that surrounds each of us. Thank you.

Prelude to a thank you note

2007-10-20T23:32:00.000-07:00

This entry spans three days, October 20, 21, and 22, 2007.

As I write this, daughter Willow and husband Brent are sleeping soundly, at 11:33 pm on the eve of Willow's first birthday party. This blog has been up for months, formatted beautifully by Brent with my style choices, and this is my first official entry.

I am filled with gratitude for my life as it is and the wonderful people in it. Last year, a few days from today, Willow Laurann Curtis was born. When I was told I had to go to the hospital for her birth, I was terrified. I don't like hospitals and had planned a home birth to be attended by a naturopathic doctor and midwife, my husband, and a few close friends. Instead my blood pressure rose and we had to go in to get my labor moving and protect me and the baby. As it turned out, our head nurse that night had done her residency at the Farm in Tennessee, a commune where women had their babies at home under the supervision of a country doctor. Our personal nurse was in midwifery school, and was given pretty much free reign to care for us her way. She was in the room the entire time, administering petocin and magnesium but otherwise allowing me and my loved ones to help bring Willow into the world ourselves. Willow's vitals were good and other than my blood pressure I was fine, so I was given monitors that strapped to my body so I could remain mobile and use the birthing tub as I wished. My husband and friends kept me on track and kept the doctors honest, helping me make the moment to moment decisions as things unfolded.

At one point a resident, who was our primary doctor at the hospital, suggested that perhaps "kiddo" may be too big to come through the birth canal and wanted to put a monitor inside me that would connect to Willow's head and actually measure the force of the contractions. By that point I was ready to do anything, but I heard "cesarean" in the sub-text of what she said. Also, my gut reaction when she said the baby would perhaps not fit through the birth canal was "bullshit". Anyway, I nodded my head at the doctor, but the nurse who had been with us the entire time standing behind the doctor and insistently shaking her head. At that point my friends told me to let the doctor know I would need to think about it, which I did. After the doctor left, our nurse told us that if I had that type of monitor on I would no longer be mobile. She also said that it looked to her as if my labor was progressing, since my cervix had dialated about 3 centimeters in a few hours. As far as I was concerned not being mobile was a deal breaker and thus I declined the intervention. Even at that time I could see the dominoes falling toward a c-section, and am so grateful I had a well informed nurse and friends who had the capacity to help me make decisions in a time when all I could focus on was the sensation that my entire torso was on fire. When the nurse told the doctor of my decision, she also told her she thought the labor was progressing well and that it was an unnecessary intervention. The doctor checked with her superior, another resident, who actually agreed with the nurse... and the doctor, incredibly, apologized to the nurse in front of us for her eagerness to intervene.

The hours of that night went on, and on, and on... and finally, sometime after day break, Willow's head appeared. Of course I thought at the time that she would be right on her way in moments, but from the time her head appeared until she was born was at least 45 minutes, maybe longer. That was the longest moment for me, as I was exhausted by that point and still a little fearful of more intervention. Someone held up a mirror for me to look at her head, and my god I almost broke down. It was the grossest thing I've ever seen, and looked like an open brain emerging from between my legs. I remembered something about that in my childbirth education class, and everyone in the room assured me that was how she should look, but when it happens in the moment it is really shocking.

I kept waiting for the urge to push I had been told about in our childbirth class, but I never actually got that... I never did want to push, my instinct was to simply relax and allow Willow to come out. I felt an incredible heaviness after she crowned and was really moving down the birth canal, as if I were expelling a bowling ball, but that only made me want to relax more, not push. But push I did... as I was instructed by the doctors and less so the nurse, though I know she was anxious for Willow to be born... the whole staff was at that point, as their shift had ended at 7 am and they had been with us all night, and they really wanted to see her. I pushed as hard as I could, and that was excruciating. Not painfully so, but absolutely my last bit of energy was going out. Then, finally, I felt something like my legs cracking apart, not in a painful way at all but I could feel my hip joints release as if each side of my lower body could be set on either side of the room, and then a sensation like a wiggly fish thrashing between my legs, slippery and very wiggly, and Willow entered the world.