Roar aka Fuck Bikinis, Bras + Shaving aka I just want to be free

This week, Danny and I are in Miami visiting his family, his birthplace and also to have (hello!) a long, sunny vacation, and some beachy treats especially after the month that we’ve both experienced.

I just got off the phone with “Jane”, a volunteer through PLSP, a person who herself has experienced a pregnancy loss, and who I’ll get to have one more free phone counseling with before I’m eligible for their bereavement groups. The first time we talked, I was on a retreat with D & my mom, feeling very vibrant, and feeling the love. This time was different, because I am different. I now find that every day has its difficulties and I am crying daily again. I never know what will spark (inspire?) the crying, the sad feelings and although I always go with whatever emotions sweep over me, I feel I have no control.

When we were at the airport getting ready to board the plane to come down here, there were all these families with little kids, little girls. A father extended his big finger, as a steady hand, for his daughter to take in her hand and walk around. I went to tell D how sweet this was and in that split second that I turned to tell him, I found myself crying and sobbed and sobbed into his shoulder. He understands; we just express things differently.

500 year old trees at  Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

500 year old trees at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

We started planning this trip when I was still pregnant. I would have been pregnant at that moment in time - this is how I dreamed it. And I lost my baby. We lost a baby. His parents and my mom lost a grandbaby. His siblings lost a niece or nephew. So did our friends-family. That is the truth. I don’t have any physical indicators any more to show that I was pregnant, or questions into my physical health, the easy questions. All I have is my own sadness, taking me to new heights and depths. I walk around every day now with the my own shadow of darkness following me, living below the surface, simmering inside of me. Jane asks me what the triggers are but I never know when its going to happen. It just does, and I allow it to. I allow myself to feel. I allow myself to be free. I am free. And in achieving this freedom, I see in these difficult weeks, this is another transformation - I keep changing, becoming new people, emerging from multiple cocoons, shedding old ways and taking on new ones - but I’ve been here before, I’ve said these words, this is all familiar and I am awake.

I’ve been wanting to write a blog post for days and art comes when it comes and when you make time for it. I announced the title of this post to D and he said, Why don’t you tell us how you really feel? And that’s why I love him! And that’s why he loves me. So let me explain. It started as Fuck Bikinis, Bras + Shaving because yes I am on vacation in the land of the sun and when you go to the beach you wear a bathing suit and most often a bikini. Now, even before I knew I was pregnant, I was taking a Spirit Bath (before I started calling them that), and said, When I’m pregnant, I’m not going to shave anymore. In fact, I’m starting now. I had read that Busy Phillips  stopped waxing because she wanted her little girl to look at her and know that "grown women have hair on their vaginas". I want to be a role model to whoever was going to be born, one that allows their body to be natural and to be free. But there was one thing I was going to cut - the hairs on my head! I also decided, in that space and time when I was weeks pregnant but had no idea, that this long in the middle, shaved on the sides is the hair I’ve been wanting for years and that though I love it right now it its shortest stage, I will also love it when the middle grows long. I want to have a long mane of hair down the middle when I am laboring and joyfully giving birth to our Rainbow Baby (inspired in part by SQUAT).

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

And so here I am presented with Naples/Miami bikini season and here is my futuristic-post-modern-post-misogyny-hairy-body and ohhh I’ve got dilemmas. I am comfortable with the leg, cooch and armpit hair but I don’t know how to navigate these waters on a clothed beach with my family. I know that society thinks it’s ugly because I’ve thought the same. While, I would love to wear what I’ve brought and let it all hang out, I feel like a parody of this offensive SNL skit I once heard which goes I’m Helga the German Waitress with the very long armpit hair. Oh Helga, your armpit hair is in my soup! Ohhhhh sorry!! My armpit hair is not that long, but my - I honestly do not know how to refer to the stretch of jungle growing in between my legs. Well, my snatch hair is growing - I’ve shaved for years so I have no idea how far it will go. But it looks pretty comical with a string bikini worn over it. I borrowed a tankini from my mother-in-law (mine were oddly stretched out and the string bikini top...no) and wore little hot pants shorts over the bottoms. While walking on the beach with D, I showed him what was going on downs-below and he was shocked. Yes it is shocking! He asked, Did you bring a razor? And I said, No I’m not shaving! But I need a different bathing suit (or a nude beach!). Everyone wants to feel beautiful and confident and sexy especially at the beach and this was an awkward barrier to that for me.

bird2.jpg

That night we got vegan food and I saw this brightly lit superstore of touristy beach wear and bathing suits. I was elated. I want to swim, I want to navigate mainstream waters and not freak people out (too much) before they get a chance to know and like me - this is part of the reason why I decided to continue to wear a bra in public - but only until I get pregnant and have a baby!! So we went in and they were actually about to close. I scoured the racks for hot pants/underwear in my size - this place runs so small just like American Apparel that I got a Large but needed a non-existent XL. D helped me find matching tops and it is all a hot mess, running around, time time time against (or for?) me, bathing suit tops not fitting. I definitely tested D’s patience, as I do every day but not his love, he said. This is why we love each other. And, I got my hodge-podge-bikini: blue hot pants underwear bottoms that conceal the va-ja-ja forest and a badeau top that's easily adjustable, won't let my boobs fall out and has palm trees on it. I did have some crazy revelations in the race to try them on. Shopping for bathing suits (jeans or bras) is one of the most horrible experiences for a female bodied person, at least for this one. Regardless of how skinny you think other people are, or how people often refer to me, I am not skinny. I have a lot of curves that do not fit into skinny people clothing. I was at an Indy party once and a (weird) girl approached me and said You have a womanly figure. So there you go - I have a womanly figure! But don’t we all? Anyhow, I tried on these hot pants which are electric blue and so comfy and cover up the comically offensive hairs and then I start criticizing myself because I got this muffin top thing going on. I think Oh no oh no! Not long after I realize the irony of wanting to be free and getting something to cover up that freedom only to be ashamed that my body doesn’t fit into these freedom pants. So I said to myself, If I can deal with this muffin top, so can everyone else. It has to be less culturally unacceptable than the growing terrain beneath it and the store is closing and we gotta go.

A log provides new life at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

A log provides new life at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

We come back to the (incredibly fancy) hotel and just chill there. I finally get my Bloody Mary and it’s more perfect than my fantasy because it’s me, D + his Vodka Tonic with our legs in a hot tub. I submerge into the hot tub for a while and then go swimming in the pool. I lay on my back there, staring at the stars, at bright Mercury or is it Jupiter, D knows. I look back at the universe, the dark sky, the lights, so vast, I see my baby there, when all of it came out of me that day, and saw the universe that had been growing inside of me and I cry and cry into the lake of the pool, of myself, floating, floating and I fall asleep. I am very good at floating.

The following day we’re packing up to head over to a protected Everglades swamp and I decided to pursue a song I heard on D’s parent’s car radio. The song is Roar by Katy Perry. As I was packing, I listened and watched the music video and found myself sobbing. This song, this video spoke directly to me. I kept watching and playing the whole thing until it wouldn’t make me sob (which was about 4-5 times). That is now one of my mantras. I went to read about it and discovered another related song, Brave by Sara Bareilles. Last night after the Mogwai show with Team Danny, between 2 and 4am, I listened to many versions of this song, a duet with Carol King melded with her song Beautiful and one two three different videos of people dancing to this song. I went to go into the backyard but the door was locked and I didn’t know where the keys were so I quietly put the music on in the living room and danced there.

jungle.jpg

Coupled with the temporary phone therapy, therapy with a social worker, bereavement groups and support from friends-family, these are my song mantras, they make me stronger, I sing them in my head when I wake up in the morning, they help me to maintain my confidence in myself, living this life fully, leaning into the discomfort, the pain of the loss of losing this baby, this tiny life that was growing inside of me and birthed a new Dawn, that is me, and knowing that I’m not alone and I am powerful and I am weak and there is courage in my vulnerability because one can’t exist without the other, they are all parts of me, all feelings are valid, all living things are valid and we all deserve freedom.  

Living tree at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

Living tree at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

Blood Moon

4.15.2014 Tues 7:29 AM

Despite trying so hard to stay awake, I awoke on the couch in the living room. In my mind I “slept in” but it is still before 7:30 in the morning and I shake a dismissive hand at the clock in the kitchen.

I missed the rare Blood Moon, the Lunar Eclipse. Last night I read that it's a tetrad and I'll have three more chances. I went around the apartment smudging with my smudge stick, cleansing our living space on this unique occasion. I had intended to do this a few days after the baby died, at Jessica's suggestion, but it never happened. I smudged our bedroom + looked out the window. Where is this Blood Moon? I can’t see it, I said searching in each window. D said, You can’t see the moon from here, but I knew you could because I had. 

I smudged all the rooms and come to the living room. I sent out extra positivity to the living room which has all these Memories + Things but doesn’t have space for Living Things. It will some day soon, I know it.

I went to the corner of the living room windows which has all the Natural Light and the aloes + poinsettia flourish there. I have a nice wooden chair with sturdy arms that I sit in as I continue to smudge. I look out into the city from this eighth floor - building upon building, all bricks, a darkened, clouded sky. Where is the moon?

And then I see it/her/him. All the way to the right, in the top corner of the farthest window, there it/she/he is. Almost out of sight with clouds passing in front of my view, I see her. The Moon looks to have a permanent haze or cloud over a portion of the roundness - the beginning of the Lunar Eclipse. It is not yet Blood Red but it is the beginning.

I gaze and gaze and continue to smudge. Tumble, our cat, sits on the window sill in front of me. The smudge stick is curious for him. Does he know about the moon and what’s happening? Or does he just want to play? Or is playing the point? If there is so much to learn from children - in fact if everything we need to know lies in the genuine and truly authentic experience of children, shouldn’t Playing be apart of everything? Do not the cats and the dogs and the cows and the pigs and the chickens and the whales and the elephants and the sharks and the birds of paradise and the dung beetles and the earthworms all play? And what of the aloe and the basil and the potato and the daffodil and the peppers and the bamboo - don’t they all play?

I awake this morning and I realize that I’ve missed the Blood Moon, but I haven’t, not really. The Blood Moon healed me, kept me on the couch in deep, deep sleep to heal this sore throat, to heal me, to heal this tired body, to allow me to listen and submit to my body, my body which is Of The Earth, constantly telling me what to do, what to eat, what to feel, this body which is of the cosmos, made of the dust of stars.

The universe are my friends + family and the universe provides.

4.8.2014 Tuesday 10:29am

This was some song suggestion on my Spotify radio and it speaks to me. It’s catchy, it's poppy, it feels good, I like it, it says something else, something different than what the songwriter intended. It speaks to my baby that I lost. It speaks to the different people inside of me, inside of each of us.

I went to search for it on Youtube and this polished music video was the first in the results with close ups of girls in short jeans and their boyfriends' touching their legs. I don’t see that when I sing and hear and feel the imagination and emotion of the song. When I first hear it, I see Elton John and then I see myself and I see joy and the possibility of joy. The second video I find, has this hipster-looking band in a sound studio, more goofy, more honest. These attractive dudes jumping in the mud and being - NOT silly boys - but silly human beings. The sound quality is different, more open. And that’s the one I post to Facebook:

We're gonna make it 'til we get sick/Stop talking about it. Let's burn again!/...Peaceful and lazy it's all I wanna be/There ain't no time to waste Let's burn again!

Please listen/watch it here: Let's Burn Again

** Disclaimer: I am very much aware that this song is very blatantly about sex. From the lyrics alone I understand that this guy has reunited with this girl and he wants to get it on with her. But when I first heard the song I didn't know all the lyrics, I never comprehend vocal lyrics ever, and because music is art and art is interpretive, I made it into something else, something for me, and found new meanings in it. To me, when I sing it, it's become a love song from me to myself and my body. So here we go...**

11:48am

Sometimes it feels as though my whole life has been leading up to this point. Do we have a purpose? Do we need a purpose? I feel purposeful.

I feel good and it feels good to feel good.

Since my shower, my new morning routine - wake up, shit, drink my water, journal in my Dream Journal (which is now expanding to the Everything Journal as I traverse this Waking Life) - and then my glorious shower - I’ve been listening to my Energy Playlist. Yes, it feels good to feel good. But I’m also exhausted. Last night S came over joyfully unexpectedly. We haven’t seen each other since my wedding celebration last September and I had so wanted to tell her about the pregnancy and share the joy together. But yesterday morning I knew and told D and journaled that I needed to tell her about my miscarriage. I called her late last night on the way home from work and eating dollar pizza with R... I texted, “Hello! Call me ok? I have important news to share. Love you xoxoxoxox”, She called and we talked and then I told her. And then, as serendipitously as so much has been, she was on 24th and 8th, just a few blocks from me so she came over, and like so many of our reunions with a gap of months or years, it’s like we were never apart, we can talk about anything - these are true friends. We talked and hung out from 11:30pm - 3am. I couldn’t believe it. She had to leave but we just kept talking. And then this morning I woke up, on my own, without an alarm clock at 9:30 in the morning. I couldn’t believe it. And a few hours later, as my Energy Music is playing and I’m singing along and dancing and getting so close to eating, to making my healing sustenance and eating it now, I’m so exhausted. The crying is exhausting. The thinking is exhausting. The talking is exhausting. The feeling is exhausting. Living is exhausting. I keep saying, Death is only hard on the living. I’m sure it’s somebody’s quote but now it’s mine.

I look to see who has liked this photo of mine that I posted on Facebook. A photo of my chopped veggies, some even from my window sill garden (I’ve never had a garden before) and eggs and my potato and three avocados that I’m trying to seed and it’s happening. The caption is, Feeding myself and my babies.

Who and what defines what is means to be a mother, to be a parent, to be a caregiver? I see who liked the post, feeling good that people like it and I see they are all my friends, all my friends who know, who shared in my joy and share in my sorrow. Friends from work, my beloved, a friend from Occupy, a friend from The Choir. And I sob. I start to choke on my food and only stop myself from crying so I don’t. So much of this is feeling overwhelmed by people’s love. So many know. So many know. And so many are here for me. In many ways this is a solo journey that I’m on, and a dual one with D and we’re also flying here with hundreds of people and thousands more as we read blog posts about loss and miscarriage and our similar stories and even the different ones, rise to the top, we sift it out, we find our stories in the words of strangers - but aren’t they our brothers and sisters? Gaia, Mother Earth is our mother and we are all her children, all living things and creatures. And then also, Gaia is a baby, a child in the ever expanding universe. As Neil DeGrasse Tyson loves to say, we are the dust of stars. We are the pollen on this planet, the planet is the flower and we are special and not so special but we are unique because we are alive and we are here. We are perfect.

Goodbye Little Lentil!

Emailed on April 1st, 2014 at 12:06pm, approximately an hour after dropping off the fetal remains at the midwifery/OB's office:

Hello friends,

We have some very sad news to share with you. Early this morning I had a miscarriage. They're doing pathology tests on the remains and we'll know the results in a week.

We're devastated. Life can be so suddenly and completely joyful and then, just as quickly, a deep sorrow sets in. We feel so grateful for so much and for all of you, our friends, our family. We are blessed to have so many that love and support us. Thank you!

And on this sunny beautiful morning, we say a really sad and reluctant - Goodbye Little Lentil!

Love,
Dawn + Danny