She was cautious at first, as she is wont to be.  

Staying close and preferring sand to sea.

But we kept coming back, to the Golden Garden.

Feb 14, 2013
12:33 p.m.

I'm sitting here at Zoka, alone and sipping a steamy Americano.  I ordered it 'for here.'  I don't remember the last time I ordered something to stay.

I woke this morning anxious, or perhaps excited?  It's true that the highly-anxious personality often has a hard time distinguishing anxiety from excitement, since they are essentially the same physiological sensation.  I nearly cancelled my plans for this moment.  There has been a lot invested in this moment, a personal journey of epic proportions to my small existence. I've hired my friend Niki to watch Bowie for several hours a month, and not so I could go to an appointment or do anything required of me. I hired her entirely to get away from being a Mom for a small while.

First, there is the initial idea that it would be nice to run errands alone again, to perhaps go on a photograph walk or visit the sea shore.  There is the emotional struggle of wondering how deserving I really am of those hours.  Working through that took a few weeks.

Second, there's the progress of thinking a thought to vocalizing a thought.  There's telling Joel and then working through his thoughts (always supportive) but the logistics, the money, the implications.

Third, there's the finding of someone you trust.  Or should I hire a professional?

Fourth:  There's the agreement of scheduling with this person and the waiting for the days to arrive.

Then it's time.  Just another day for Bowie, but one I've been planning for nigh on 6 weeks, and one I wanted to back out of at least 15 times.   There's the self-doubt, the "I'm fine today; I don't really need this."

But here I am at Zoka, feeling so impossibly fulfilled that I'm sure to be leaking light!  I can suddenly feel the goodwill and love of people; I can see atoms connected and agreeing on origin and meaning.  I realize that unless I had a moment to sit quietly in uninterrupted thought to ponder this feeling  I would have missed out on this new phrase I keep hearing from inside of me:

I love being Bowie's mother.

The truth is, I've had small moments of this revelation this week while hanging out with her, stroking her head of new hair, kissing her soft neck.  But I don't think I allowed it a full confession.  And I may never have had - if I'd not given the thought the space and solitude to emerge.

All this makes me wonder how many revelations, meditations, and epiphanies are missed because we do not pursue solitude or make room for contemplation. I needed to step back from Bowie to really see her.  And I have to say, I'm not sure I've ever seen anything so beautiful.

I've often felt more in love with Joel when I'm thinking of him from afar or praising him to others.  The distance creates clarity.  And I can clearly see this love that permeates my life, connects me to my kin.

So I hired Niki.  There's a lot I want to do with that time.  I want to shop, take pictures, exercise, meet Joel for lunch...but today it just made sense to write.  I just wanted to reflect on this most beautiful fulfillment given to me in a small coffee shop not 200 feet from Bowie and Niki playing in my house.  I want to let this moment pervade my mind, to let this happiness truly happen to me.  To not criticize it or truncate it with the knowledge that it too will pass.

On this sunny and brisk Friday morning wherein I was able to get Scout and I out for a walk (and perhaps have accidentally stumbled into the donut shop), I find myself in pairing down mode.  I want to sit and read my friend's beautiful blogs.  I want to sip my Americano slowly.  I want to hold my sweet baby girl just a bit longer before I put her down to nap.  

I so appreciate having an online space in which to escape.  It's an integral part of my life, the writing of and reading of blogs.  I have made bosom friends and met myself in a gracious way.  Like I imagine a painter to her brushes or a sketch-artist to her pencils, I love the way my fingers adroitly fly over the keyboard, my soul comfortable and easy within technology.  

My sister came up to see Madonna with me two nights ago, and while we had such an epic time, it ended up being a stress trigger for us both.  Her wallet and phone were stolen at the concert and she was due to get on a plane the very next day - without ID.  My sister is my number 2, and we do not talk very often.  When I have her soul in front of me, I love to hear her speak and share it.  She also came up to be with Bowie...but that annoyance of life became the focus of our one day together, and thing after thing just kept going wrong.  She was able to get home, but as I drove a screaming Bowie and myself back to the house from the airport, I realized how deeply stressed I was.  I came home, put Bowie to bed, and promptly put myself down for a nap, more because I was so over-wrought and over-stimulated than sleepy.  I stared out the blinds for an hour.  My poor sister, Seattle keeps doing wrong by her. I miss her so much.  I miss all my family since having Bowie, it's changed my need for them somehow.

Joel came home after a busy day at work and also the first class of his trek to finishing his Master's in Theology (that he started 7 years ago), and we were both even too stressed to watch Star Trek, our usual relaxer.  He took his time making us a home-cooked meal, I sat on the couch with a mason jar of wine and just tried to breath.  I think what I hate most about stress is how it lingers in your body even when the stressor is gone.  

This morning, after a good amount of sleep (though not as good as this week has been, since Bowie slept through the night on Sun-Wed), and after a walk intended to rid my being of that residual adrenaline, all I want to do is linger on my friend's blogs, tumblers, and flickr photos.  I want the beauty of how they see their lives to wash over me with kindness and inspiration, like a soft inter-webular hug.

A few weeks ago, we let loose a lantern for Bowie.  Dad previously purchased a paper lantern in Thailand for just such a ritual, and we were instructed to write or draw something for her as a benediction of sorts. Aunt Julie and Uncle Tim happened to be visiting.  It was a gorgeous moment in our family's history.  Her father drew a schematic, I dedicated Plath's "I am, I am, I am."  I didn't see all the words, but they were not intended for me.  It was written to Bowie's soul, and then it was given to the sky.  

Sorry for the pollution, Mother Earth...but my baby's gotta fly.

Joel's mom threw Bowie a baby shower to welcome her into this world.  Instead of typical presents (which everyone sent me when she was born - SO SPOILED), she asked each guest to bring a book of their choosing.  It was a lovely day to see family I too rarely see.  Now Baby Star has a rather enviable library.

That evening, while I cuddled Bowie after her feeding, I smelled the intoxicating mixture of several woman's scents combined on her.  It reminded me of the realization that women need other women, and that Bowie needs them all.  I fancy myself apart from this cliche, but no female is impervious.  We need to remember we aren't the first, and we aren't the last.  

Bowie also received her father's baby blanket and sweater/hat set that Gma Jean had saved for his offspring.  It was a touching moment.  Also touching was meeting my cousin Amy's new daughter, Kenya.  She is a miracle in so many senses.  I feel moved to the core when I consider the journey Amy has embarked upon to find her daughter.  

Toward the end of the baby shower, Jessica and Becca received the news that their father had passed away.  It was one of the most profoundly sacred and deeply sad moments I've ever witnessed, the inner circle of unabashed, unfiltered mourning as the initial blow is delivered.  I struggle to make meaning of it, but I am left with something about the cycle of life and death.  Here was a room of women celebrating life and the enjoyment thereof through family and literature, while simultaneously choking on the profoundly real knowledge of human mortality.