This idea was given to me by an old friend, a college instructor and single mom, whose bold life has always inspired me and whose bold “get your shit together” email recently shook me up.

Here it is – the good stuff first!

Ungoals

Releasing dependence on negative relationships and friendships, effective immediately and permanently. I do not need to invest my life, finances, and energies in those who do not re-vest or reciprocate in healthy ways. This includes professional, personal, and family relationships of every level. It’s basic Boundary-Setting with a dash of Divaesque Style!

Releasing need to have spiritual/religious identity and self-conception that fits with others’ world views. I am not a “Christian”, a “Buddhist”, nor am I an atheist. I am simply and only myself.

Releasing need to identify with a diet-based subculture. I am not “Raw”, I am not “Vegetarian”, I am not “Gluten-Free”, I am not “Omnivore”. I am simply and only myself, 100% Intuitive and Whole, and I am enough. My dietary choices are something that has shaped and defined me for years, and I’m releasing the need to be box-able in other’s eyes.

Accepting that I am capable of anything I dream and design to do, achieve and become. This includes earning a high income and total financial freedom and independence at a young age, traveling around the globe, learning multiple languages, giving heart and soul and resources to many lives, raising my son in a beautiful and nurturing way without requiring a two-parent home, and caring for my own personal needs and health sufficiently.

And now the fun stuff:

Goals

Taste 52 new wines... white, red, rose and you name it! One a week, and if I miss a week, I’ll catch up with two the next. I’d love to drive up into wine country, Napa Valley, later in the year when the trees are dropping leaves and the atmosphere is charged with electric winter chill… and wet my lips on every red, white, rose, dessert, sparkling, ice wine I can get my glass around. And I’d love to sample multi-cultural wines every chance I get – Italian, French, Australian, British, American… who else makes wine?

Pay off both remaining Credit Cards: This is a “financial freedom” goal related to my aim of being 100% debt free by age 30. Total pay-off of cards: $7400 by year’s end.

Go to a Laker’s game in L.A. – self explanatory, of course.

Ride on a real upside down rollercoaster! There is something in the core of me that feels orgasmic when I think about plunging falls and soaring heights. I’m a person of extremes sometimes masquerading as a moderate – yet, masquerading is the wrong word, for I am genuinely both these things. Roller coasters are evidently an expression of the Extreme Diva… only, not as impressive as, say, scaling Everest, since I would be strapped in. Right?

Complete a 10k and a Half Marathon. 2012 is my Year of Discovery. Discovery of my Self. Discovery of my physical abilities. Discovery of my personal capabilities. Discovery of who I am beneath the layers of who I’ve created myself to be in the name of survival and surThrival over the last quarter century. Discovery of just how endless my potential is in the face of extreme odds — thus, I’m going to push the envelope physically and I’m becoming a runner. Because it feels good (except when it doesn’t) and because I want to do this for Me.

As the year progresses and new challenges crop up, I’ll morph and work my way over, around, and through Life. This list is subject to change, but I really don’t think it’s going to do anything but grow… like me.

Signing off for now to go cuddle my almost-ten-month-old Diva Baby,

The Diva

Some of us are flying high, considering it the year we achieved our greatest goals – busted through our strongest limitations – realised our deepest selves.

I’m the moderate in the middle, as usual. The one leaning towards both perspectives, swaying between, comfortable in admitting 2011 held many choices I’d prefer to never recap or relive, but that it also brought many events and experiences that formed the new Diva, the woman I’m rapidly embracing as Who I Am… which is, of course, ever changing.

My son was born in 2011.

I received two promotions and two pay increases in 2011 that drove me ever-closer to my 6-figure income goal.

I moved out of an unhealthy, difficult living situation and into a gorgeous new home in 2011, one that I can call my own even if the mortgage isn’t in my name and never will be (I’m anti-home ownership for myself and will discuss my thoughts on that in another post.)

And I made several new friends and professional acquaintances who have expanded my world view so broadly that I am beginning to feel freer and more alive than ever before.

The Diva is ready for the New Year.

Hello, 2012.

A few weeks ago, my old friend Jen, a red-headed pixie mother friend from my acting daze in Arizona, sent me a note on Facebook: the family’s gonna be in your neck ‘a the woods in September, Diva! Want to join us for dinner?

Between that email and this weekend, I didn’t invest much mental thought in where my friends were staying. I kept thinking “San Diego, right?”

Turns out dinner was at Goofy’s Kitchen in Disneyland!

Diva Baby hams it up with his buddy Jen, Matron of the Disneyland Clan

(Life List Item #1… go to Disneyland.)

So I found myself driving through lazy Labor Day weekend traffic in downtown Los Angeles with a snoring Diva Baby in the car seat, chatting with friends on my Blackberry head set and managing to only get a little bit lost in Anaheim… then 15 minutes of wrong turns later, voila!

I was in Disneyland.

Thank goodness everyone there is trained to smile and wave, just smile and wave at the dipstick tourists. On the way between the valet parking and Frontier Tower, a 15-story blue glass building smack dab in the middle of Happyville, I managed to run my stroller into two posts, drop my diaper bag, forget to warn the parking attendant that my car was a beast to start thanks to a ridiculously ineffective outdated alarm system (and then forget to tip him later – I know, karma will find me), and that was just in the first half hour…

Fortunately, O Baby, being a patient chap, decided to sleep through it all... his usual tactic for coping with his air-headed Momma.

By the time I bumped into Jen (was it literally? most likely!) a few minutes later, I was so frazzled by my new-found clutziness (welcome to Motherhood!) that I had adopted the Disneyland stance of smile and wave. So I just smiled and waved numbly at the tiny red-headed figure floating towards me in a white bathrobe and after a quick hug, we were off to find the guys.

Dave, Jen’s musically-inclined actor husband and one of my oldest friends in theatre, greeted me with his classic half-smile. And the birthday boy, Xander, who I’d last seen when HE was a 6 month-old booby-loving baby, was now a dashing 5 year-old splashing around in the spa.

Originally the plan had been to bask by the pool, but the thick clouds overhead and occasional flashes of lightning on the horizon spelled doom for pool time. So instead we opted to walk through what I dubbed The Village, but probably has some other less faux-horror name since it was really quite a light, bright and cheerful place and not in fact a pseudo-1880′s frontier town where red flowers need be trampled lest we all get ‘et up.

First stop, BOOK STORE of course! Every last member of our 4 and 1/2 person party is a bibliophile, including Diva Baby (who prefers A.A.Milne) and Xander (who reads with all the airs and confidence of a third-grader despite only just having turned 5). We could have stayed there an hour, but dinner reservations were at 5:30 so onward we marched back out into the fray…

Did I mention my addiction to Legos as a child? I was a Lego-aholic. I spent hours, days, weeks of summer vacations constructing magnificent small scale cities, train tracks and space ships. My siblings and I used to enter Lego creations in the County Fair (and win ribbons!). We were into Legos before Legos were cool! (Okay, maybe not that extreme.)

And in Disneyland… there is a LEGO STORE! Not just a store – but a miniature Lego MUSEUM! Where you can find a red Lego airplane soaring on the store horizon… and a gigantic Lego giraffe with legs thick as tree trunks… and a Lego DARTH VADER that TALKS.

Jen, Xander and I were so enamored of this store that we tried to remove the Lego Door from its hinges and take it home with us!

But when the Lego Police strolled by we quickly fell into place and acted normal...

Then we were on to some random Dress-A-Bear-For-The-Same-Cost-As-Your-New-Car shop were people choose various and sundry parts of teddy bears and convert said stuffed creatures into heart-bearing, bling-wearing, birth-certificate-bearing family members… for a blingy price, of course. Though I’ve collected bears since age 2, I managed to skate out of there without dropping a single red cent. Mostly because I left my wallet in the car.

Soon, the ladies of the party were crying “Hunger!” and we all crashed at a charming cafe where it took slightly less than half an hour for our single order of onion rings to be delivered. (Hey, the bread was free!)

All the while, I was caught up in the enforced Happy Vibe of this, the Happiest Place on Earth – and I confess, the happiness came in waves and was mildly effortless. In fact, I didn’t have to think about it at all. Before too long, I was prancing around in a Minnie-Mouse-Ears cap, posing under sculptures of body-builder Genies, and spending my last paper dollar on Tinkerbell gear (hey, she’s a Pixie – I’m a Pixie… it’s a Pixie Thing!)

Then in the hotel room, Xander entertained us all with his charming reading skills (seriously impressive child) and Jen taught me how to read Dr. Seuss books properly (was that 3/4 or 6/8!?). Diva Baby cooed, giggled, pooped, sipped milk and dazzled everyone with gummy smiles. And Dave snored underneath a starry wizard pillow. Classic Dave.

But I confess… like the giddy child-at-heart I am, the highlight of my day was Dinnertime. Because Goofy’s Kitchen is where I met the one true love of my animated-film-loving life… MULAN!

I didn’t just get to meet Mulan. She placed her hand on my shoulder (shivers), she called me a fellow WARRIOR WOMAN (!!!) and she goo-gooed over my son!

*melts*

However, the one thing I failed to do (of course) was have anyone snap a photo of me with my feminine-feminist goddess idol. Classic Diva Mom moment! A dream realised! A long-awaited fantasy springs to life! And the camera is forgotten!

Diva Baby forgives me. He knows we will be back... and when we are, we will have our Nikon D3100 Digital SLR camera at the ready!

But as I gushed to Jen, who was probably amused by the look of pure zoned out happiness on my face when Mulan entered the room, “I have to come back here! I have to come back here soon! A lot!”

Eloquence goes out the window when the Diva is in love.

But at least I have discovered that Mulan lives just one hour from my home, that Mulan is really Latina, and that Mulan says “y’all”. And if I’ve got any say in the matter, you can bet on it I’ll be back.

Addendum: Jen, Dave and Xander are first-rate Disneyland-going buddies. I owe y’all!

When I’m working through Depression or dealing with unsettling Home Life experiences, I find that doing small positive things on a daily basis takes me out of my own self-absorption and helps me channel my energies into positive action for myself… simply put, help others – help yourself.

When I browsed the KIVA website looking for a loan that made sense to fund, I found Esther, a Kenyan woman whose life felt similar – she’s a single mother, one child. She is independent, owning a home for her family. She believes in the power of education, and she is entrepreneurial…

Image from KIVA.org copyright 2011

I knew immediately my little $25 loan was going to a person who would throw her back AND soul into her Life. She would turn that $25USD into something powerful – and if I never saw “my” money again, I was happy. The Universe gives back to those who give back, and I’ve never believed anything I “owned” was really mine in the first place.

Thank you, Esther. I hope the day is soon here when I can loan $250… or $2500… and not just $25!

As soon as the Paypal transaction was cleared and I felt like a genuine, bonified giver, I was seized with curiosity not just about Esther and her life, but about her country, Kenya.

As a child, I loved to watch any foreign language films, National Geographic documentaries, and especially anything that had to do with Africa. If we played RISK as a family, I always had to “own” Africa. The irony of that – a freedom-loving child of hippies being content playing a militaristic board game with world domination as the goal? How American.

But even more than the documentaries, I loved the people and animals of Africa. From the blue-eyed South Africans to the raven-skinned Nigerian goddesses and the purple-eyed nomads… from the stinging sands of the Sahara to the murky Nile… the jungles where I could very nearly believe Tarzan of the Apes truly did roam to the green cities built atop tumbling shorelines, my childhood fantasies of Africa ran wild with vivid imagery.

The older I got, the less they were fantasies and the more my mind was filled with contemporary nightmares. Rampant disease obliterating a generation of forward thinkers, the stamp of genocide on every screen and in every face, the political forces whose intensity and violence terrified me, the dichotomy of the struggling people and the squashing powerlords.

Africa was like Mexico, but less familiar, less graspable. I spent years of my childhood inundated by Mexico’s stark contrasts… but Africa was still far away, never touched or seen.

It remains so today.

Funding Esther’s loan has opened a little window in a world strikingly different from my own – and yet, in light of my own current situation and creation – strikingly similar.

Another worldwide bond we single mothers share: breastfeeding.

My son’s father and I separated while I was still pregnant. We chose to continue living in the same home because we wanted to both be present for our son’s first year – and because though we are both first-time parents, we knew it would be crucial to have that team work going for the exhausting process of Bringing Up Baby.

Today, Diva Baby is 20 weeks old. The rhythm of feedings and naps, diaper changes and diaper-less trips to the toilet, stroller walks and Baby Ergo moments has truly become that… a rhythm.

And it’s time for the Diva to make her exit, stage left. Diva Baby and I have found a new home, in the same State, same County, close enough for family trips with all three of us to the Farmer’s Market to still happen twice a week… far enough for the Diva to regain her independence and Diva Baby to have a peaceful upbringing with minimal adult conflict marring his priceless first year.

I am at peace with the changes, and ready – so ready – to move forward again.

My journey continues, only thankfully I have the most amazing partner as I go, now. My son, my incredible little miracle man.

I refused to read any books until I’d tried things my way, and quickly opted out of asking other mothers for information as well after my excited “can’t wait to breastfeed” post on one favorite forum escalated into a “breastfeeding is the most painful, horrible experience” rant by a number of burned out stay-at-home mothers who claimed they just wanted to bring me back down to earth.

Winging it was the best possible choice for me. I trusted my intuition and followed Diva Baby’s cues. He latched moments after birth and my milk came in, flowing freely and un-stoppably, two days later. The engorgement horrified me for one night – I thought my breasts would explode. But my Midwives calmed my anxiety and the next day everything settled in and down again.

In the ten days following his birth when I was recovering from my stitches, I was forced to stand and lean against walls most of the time. That was the only time breastfeeding has been unbearably painful – and it wasn’t my breasts that ached!

Two weeks postpartum, I purchased a Medela Pump from my friend Donna’s store and began pumping between nursing sessions. When I went back to work at the Agency at just three weeks postpartum, I pumped during the day and bottle-fed Diva Baby fresh milk. We nursed at night. It took him less than a day to figure out our new routine and he has stuck by it ever since – sometimes when I’d even prefer otherwise! I discovered The Leaky B@@b on Facebook and joined in conversations with other working mothers.

I joined a local La Leche League but quickly realised it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t that the facilitator wasn’t a lovely woman (she is) or the other moms very sweet (they were) but that I found myself absorbing like the emotional sponge I am… absorbing the frustrations of mother who were experiencing difficulties I just wasn’t. One single mother is forced to work from home and take a huge pay cut because her now-one-year-old daughter refuses to take a bottle. Another mother was bewildered about diapering, carrying infants, holding infants, looking at infants… everything – and her confusion confused me, too.

I also found myself beginning to feel guilty that I was pumping and bottle-feeding Diva Baby during the day after several mothers grilled me on whether that was formula in the bottle, or…

Before Diva Baby was born, I had no idea that the topic of what women feed their babies (and, apparently, how they feed it) was such a battleground in modern society. I bowed out quietly and haven’t returned.

Diva Baby and I are happy. We a truly happy unit functioning with fluidity and ease. I affirm daily (verbally and in my thoughts) my steady and healthful milk supply. I eat a balanced organic vegetarian diet (not currently raw vegan) with an emphasis on fresh fruits, gluten-free grains and beans, green smoothies and fresh greens, soaked almonds, fermented foods and coconut kefir. I avoid gluten foods and avoid processed foods, even ones mislabeled “healthy” by the marketers. I supplement with Garden of Life products, including the vegan Prenatal, raw Vitamin D and raw Iron always taken with a glass of Camu Camu powder (vitamin C for absorption).

In the four months since his birth, Diva Baby has been sick once, with mild symptoms and no fever – for less than two days. I gave him Probiotics and Ecinachea Goldenseal and continued to nurse and pump. His pediatrician, a holistic MD, declared him one of the healthiest infants he had ever met. I agree.

Here’s to eight more months, minimum, of breast milk for Diva Baby!

Moments after his birth, Diva Baby rests peacefully on his mother's breast.

*                                *                                  *

Contractions. Labor pains. Rushes. The name I gave them in my head didn’t affect the sensations I felt.

They were like when you have a dream, and you find yourself suddenly in a place you’ve never been – you know you don’t want to be there, but you don’t have the choice.  And in this dreamscape, you’re falling into blackness… into blackness, out of blackness, plummeting down. And then someone switches on a light – and you can breathe again.

Only, this time – it’s no dreamscape. You’re wide awake. And you know that switching on a light isn’t going to take you out of the experience.

I remember my Body trying to stop them, countless times, pleading with my Mind to let us both take a breather. It was a fierce struggle. But my Mind kept winning.

“No, no stopping. We have to go deeper. We can’t stop. He’s coming, and we’ve waited so long. Go deeper in, breathe deeper in, let yourself go there and stay there. We can rest when he’s out.”

So I stood, naked in the shower under a rush stream of steamy water, leaning my right side against the shower wall and pressing both hands against the door, affirming my Mind’s desire out loud in a deep, low, drawn out breathe with each plummeting wave of darkness: “Ooooo-pen…. ooooo-pen…. OOOO-PEN!”

Each time I commanded my Body to open, I could feel, ever so slightly, the internal response in my cervix and the steady downward movement of my baby. This was happening – and it was happening fast.

My Body responded beautifully, the struggle giving way to the realization that these rolling waves of pain were so much more than just physical sensation. They were many lifetimes of wisdom colliding with one lifetime’s miracle and choice. They were doorways flying open to a new chapter of my story. They were hope, love, abundance realized and the power of affirmations in evidence.

My son was coming, and my son was coming tonight.

*                                *                                  *

Orion’s birth story begins many years ago, when I was a 15 year-old girl growing up in a tight-knit religious community in the boondocks of the Southwestern USA. I was a dreamer, literally and figuratively. At an early age I started having vivid and terrifying dreams of people in my life, once dreaming that a friend’s father had died – only to have the scene replayed before my eyes three months later, with the colors and sounds and people from my dream all repeated in horrifying real-time.

But not all my dreams were nightmares. The first time I dreamed of my Son, it was like I’d finally discovered Heaven.

He was beautiful – dark curls and wide blue eyes, sometimes an infant, sometimes a boy, sometimes a man. Wise and serious but full of vivacity, too. The vagueness of who he was and where he came from made him even more tantalizing to my imaginative soul. I wanted so badly to meet him, to hold him, and to run through Life with him at my side.

There was only one thing I knew for certain from those dreams: my Son was definitely real, and he would come to into my life in my 25th year.

*                                *                                  *

39 weeks pregnant...

Pregnancy hadn’t felt easy for me.

Psychologically, I put myself through the wringer, questioning all my instincts and sapping my intuitive powers until I no longer believed I had any intuition left. My team of Midwives often encouraged me to relax, let go, and to remember… even as I approached full term and was pleading with God and the Universe to just get the kid OUT of me… that I was still the wise young woman who had come into their office several months before with a dream and a mission. But as the pregnancy went on, I lost faith in myself and my innate womanly wisdom more and more.

I was working long hours in a job that I loved – great for my savings account, but hard on my Body. Yet, I continued – motivated by a need to pay the bills associated with my son’s delivery as much as by my own driven personality to excel and over-excel at every task.

I wasn’t eating the diet I had so wanted to maintain for the entire pregnancy – my blissed out raw vegan diet! My Body had rejected most of my former favorite raw vegan foods early in the second trimester and my world felt increasingly chaotic without the structure of my favorite foodie lifestyle.

Physically, it wasn’t a picnic. For the first six months, I couldn’t seem to gain any weight and had to work hard to “look pregnant”. I certainly FELT pregnant, though! I had back pain, daily migraines, hemorrhoids, and 24/7 morning sickness. Then, in the last month, I was suddenly gaining so much weight that the Midwives suggested I revise my diet (again). I began to feel fat and critical of myself, which of course only led to me gaining MORE weight and having MORE unpleasant symptoms!  (How quickly I had forgotten the powerful Law of Attraction in my worn out state of being…)

And when the “spastic uterus”  - excessive and often painful contractions – struck in January, over two months before my son was due, I really threw my hands in the air! Enough already, Body! First, you were making me miserable – and now you were just downright PAINFUL!

In fact, I pretty much felt like I wasn’t doing ANYTHING “right”. I was always astonished when people told me I looked amazing and healthy, because I felt like crap.

When my Boss lovingly evicted me from my job and sent me home on Maternity Leave a couple weeks before my Son was due, I finally took the time for the first time in several months to accept that I was pregnant… and this was it. The child I had for many years dreamt about, loved and wanted in my life… was finally on his way – and it wouldn’t be long!

And with that sense of acceptance, I was able to quickly and gently Piece my Peace back together. I began to relax, take long walks with my dogs, and to finally read chapters of the home birth classic, Ina May’s Guide to Child Birth. These last two weeks were the best time of my pregnancy – and that book was the best thing I could have read in preparation for what was ahead. As I began to breathe more deeply, my Body and my Mind reunited as a team and I settled into a rhythm of resting, waiting, and envisioning the health and wholeness of my unborn Son.

My back pain diminished, my weight gain stopped and I felt refreshed about life and health and my son’s arrival.

I was finally ready.

*                                *                                  *

Late in the evening of March 5, I was emailing back and forth with an old raw vegan friend. Quite randomly (do you believe in random?), we fell into discussing my son’s chosen name and my own design to change my birth name, as well. When I gave her our new names, she did a numerological reading on them both. Ecstatic with what she discovered, she emailed me back immediately:

My son’s first and last names were both nines! I had already determined NOT to give him a middle name and she affirmed the wisdom on that choice.

“It is RARE to find this quality in a name,” she said. “Very balanced name. A path of completion…”

Everything she told me in the reading, based entirely on her own intuition and guides, was powerful but simple confirmation of what I had already known, dreamed about, and even experienced through the pregnancy. Particularly as regarded his psychic abilities.

As early as my first trimester, I was having strangers and friends alike come up and want to “meet” my son because they felt a powerful draw to him. On multiple occasions, people experiencing spiritual troubles came to me seeking guidance and left saying they felt like my unborn son had been giving them protection and healing… from the womb!

After the reading, I was so excited I could hardly settle myself down to accept her long-distance Reiki treatment for me and my son that night. But I did eventually breathe into the Reiki and fall asleep, grateful and excited and wondering what lay ahead.

*                             *                         *

The morning after those readings, at 6:40am, my water broke. I pranced around my home like a happy child for several hours, excited that the day had come, excited that it was March 6 – a Sunday – and the New Moon!

When the Midwives arrived around 4pm, I was already dilated to 4 centimeters. Between a particularly breathtaking set of contractions, I told them that my son would arrive by 9pm. Diva Daddy and Grandma shook their heads and the Midwives weren’t sure if I was crazy or not, expecting such a short delivery with my first child!

But I knew my son HAD to come by 9pm on March 6th. It was his gift to me, in recognition of the reading my friend had given me the night before: you see, my own new chosen name was a 3-6-9, a powerful combination in numerology to go with my powerful chart.

As the contractions intensified and my Body responded more and more eagerly to my loud spoken affirmations, the head Midwife finally looked at me and agreed. My son and I weren’t waiting another day! He would be a 3-6-9 baby, indeed.

At 8pm, exhausted from the pain and strain of the contractions and feeling weak but ready, I reached full dilation. The Midwives helped me climb out of the shower, where I had been bellowing “OOO-PEN!” loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, and I found a comfortable position on the bed.

It had all happened so quickly (yes, I even felt that way while in the middle of it!) that we hadn’t had time to fill up the inflatable children’s pool for a water birth. With one Midwife pinning my right leg back and Diva Daddy supporting my left leg, I settled into the mighty effort of bringing my son out into the world at last, one deep breathe and forceful push at a time.

In all the birth stories I had read, women were continually saying that pushing felt much better than contractions. But what they forgot to mention was that pushing and contractions came TOGETHER… oh God, the pain was intense! At times I could feel my eyes bulging from my skull and it felt like the pressure in my lower regions was traveling up to my chest to choke the blood right out of my heart.

The Midwives repeatedly directed my focus out of the waves of pain and into the process of the birth, breathing with me, smiling for me, letting me rest, and then cheering me on through the next contraction, the next two pushes. My Body felt weaker every minute and for a brief panicked second I wasn’t sure I could do this after all, especially as one Midwife rubbed oil into my perineum and said just loud enough for me to hear, “We have to get this bigger or… I don’t know!”

But then my son’s head crowned. Diva Daddy was gleeful – he could see his son! Quickly, I reached down… and miraculously, I could feel a tuft of soft newborn hair. I curled my finger in my son’s soft hair – and everything else fell away in that moment. Nothing mattered but getting him out – nothing was more important than holding him – and I didn’t CARE anymore how badly it hurt doing it.

At 8:50pm, as I was still shouting, “My Body opens with ease to get my son OUT!”, my Body did just that, and with a holler they could hear in the next county – my son was born!

In a split second, a single breath, Life as I knew it was changed – for the better – forever. With the birth of my son, I too was reborn.

With the wholebodied, wholehearted honesty of infanthood, Diva Baby embraces his world...

]]> http://dauntlessdiva.com/letter-to-my-son-you-are-born/feed 2 http://dauntlessdiva.com/letter-to-my-son-ch-4 http://dauntlessdiva.com/letter-to-my-son-ch-4#comments Tue, 18 Jan 2011 06:58:23 +0000 Dauntless http://dauntlessdiva.com/?p=821 Read more »]]>

Hi Babes,

It’s Momma again.

It’s evening in the Diva house. I’m done eating for the day, an empty glass still stained with the remnants of a homemade raw Raspberry Sorbet sitting beside my bed. The air purifier is whirring in the corner, and Diva Daddy’s favorite fur baby, Mika, is snoozing by my feet, her soft fuzzy back rising and falling rhythmically with her puppy breathes.

In the living room, Diva Daddy is tossing together his latest wild concoction of gooey superfoods while listening to a Laker’s game recap. They lost, but don’t worry – when they have you in the stands cheering for them, I betcha they’ll get their act together.

On the street outside cars are speeding past our window. It’s almost 11pm, but this is a city that never sleeps, and for now, at least, we’re a part of it. You and I – we never seem to sleep anymore, either.

Your foot is rammed up against the top of my stomach. I sense that you have settled down into position, maybe as impatient to be born as I am to meet you. But we’ve made it this far together, so let’s both just hang tight a few weeks longer, shall we?

I know you feel the contractions, sometimes, too. I’ve been having them for a couple of weeks now – too early, but the Midwives say not to worry. Slow down, drink more, sleep more, rest more, breathe more… but don’t be anxious. There’s no value in anxiety.

Sometimes the contractions are long and painful and my entire Body – front to back – feels so tense I’m afraid my skin will start tearing… other times, they’re just a nagging aching in my spine and a tense feeling in my belly, like someone just blew a balloon up and my skin is being stretched as far as it can go, but without pain.

Maybe that’s why you’re kicking me more and more, now… you don’t like the feeling of those contractions anymore than I do. Well, Babes, kicking me won’t fix it. We just have to learn to breathe together! Deep breath in, hold, slow breath out… there you go.

A family that learns to breathe together, love together, laugh together… is earth’s truest kind of family, really. You and me, we’ve been together already for who knows how many dreams…how many years I waited and you waited and now, you’re here. And this lifetime is really special – this is the one where you and I share a bond deeper than any. The Mother – Child connection. And yet I know you are coming here to be MY teacher, MY guide. Therein lies the source of my wonder at it all… that I should be chosen to be your Mother, when I already know you are so much wiser!

Seems like you’ve settled in for the night… we have a long day planned tomorrow with Diva Grams and Diva Daddy. Let’s rest up so you can dance through the day with me.

Love,

Always,

Momma

Self-Portrait with the Blackberry

12-12-2010

Little One,

You’re not so little anymore, are you? You turn 28 weeks-old in just a few hours, and I am already forgetting to account for the new expanded size of my midriff when going through doorways and busy store aisles!

I used to call you “Little Bean” because once upon a time, you were no larger than a kidney bean – and yet I loved you. And now, I call you by your name – the one your Daddy was given while taking a late night stroll under the stars. You are Orion…

Perhaps you are a powerful Light Worker like your mother? Or a courageous Earth Angel like your god-father? Or a Healer like your father? Or perhaps you are – as I suspect – something entirely new to me, someone with creative gifts and healing energies of a kind I’ve never yet encountered in the flesh. The dreams I’ve had of you for years have always caused me to wonder… who are you?

For now, at least, you are my little one. Thank you for being my son.

I want you to know I enjoy your rollicking ways of getting my attention throughout the day. Don’t think I don’t notice the difference between the light punches of your little-man hands versus the tumbling roll of your whole body inside of me! Keep dancing, Little One. I’m dancing with you and I’ll always be your back-up partner whenever you need me.

Your Daddy notices, too. I know you recognise his laughter already – he laughs a lot when he’s watching you do your evening dances – baby tango inside my belly!

You do like being wide awake late at night. Are you a night person like Momma? What projects are you going to come up with at 3am that simply have to be shared, I wonder? Before I know it, you’ll be waking me up at all hours with your latest inspirations that you can’t wait to share.

Remind me that I told you from the beginning that your Creative Self, your deepest soul sparks, are your gifts to me and everyone whose lives you touch, and that even when I’m sleep-deprived or cranky, you ALWAYS deserve to have my listening ear… my encouragement… and always, my love.

All my love today, tomorrow, and for every lifetime we share,

Diva Mom

Today you sent me a message through your beloved friend, Mercy. I know how much you love her already because sometimes your playful spirit tickles her subconscious and you go visiting with her when I am otherwise occupied. You have so much energy to give, on every plane. I had no idea, until today, just how much. You astound me with your richness of being and purpose… you are so young – only 21 weeks old in my womb, 21 weeks since a zygote made a journey and your Spirit chose me – and my Body became your temporary home.

Today, Mercy told me what you already knew… it’s why you chose me to be your Mother… she told me that I am, indeed, a powerful Light Worker. It is the same message I have been receiving since I was a young child. It’s why my life is not my own, never was. Why nothing about my experiences have been “normal”. Why I attract into my life so many women who have had the same types of foundational early experiences… the sexual abuse and spiritual traumas, the attacks from within and without this plane, the victories – the strength – the growth – the Power.

I am a Light Worker, and I belong to a band of our kind. Human transmitters for Spiritual purpose. Of course “I” am Powerful. I was created in the Image of the most powerful Light Worker of all…

And you, my Son? Precious being – Old Soul – wise and prepared, yet full of playful and youthful energy as you are… you are so much more. I am here for you. I am called to be your Protector (one of them). I accept this role with a sense of joy more intense than anything I have ever yet felt.

Every anointment, every prophecy, every visit from every seer, every strange dream, every “senseless tragedy”, every sacred discovery… it was all to prepare me for You.

I am ready – as ready as I can be. I am humbled by your coming birth. You, too, have a purpose beyond yourself. Like our new friend, Dr. Denni, told us in a hushed and smiling whisper two nights ago: “There is something inside of you, Martine, something greater and more powerful than you could possibly yet know.”

He was right.

Jai ma!

All my love,

Your Mother