My Baby You'll Be.

Two years ago this evening I was quietly laboring to bring Reinger into this world.  I had returned from an acupuncture appointment and had the motherly knowing.  I mowed the lawn, watered the garden, prepared meals, cleaned the house, showered, and even dried my hair.  I made a list of things that would need to happen in the morning and who would do them.  Mom could call the dentist and cancel that appointment I was trying to squeeze in before the baby came.  I'd also need to put money in an envelope for someone to give to the man that was helping me with the garden.  Hospital bags were ready, snacks for laboring and recovery ready to go.  I knew but didn't say a word.  I laid with Leif as he drifted off to sleep, knowing that it was our last night just him and me.  Knowing that he would very soon be a brother and that he would no longer be my one and only.  

As Josh and Leif slept, I labored.  I walked the stairs, squatted, lunged.  In between sets of lunges and stairs, I sat on the toilet and excitedly examined the bloody show and visualized the energy moving down, pulling Rein with it.  I did this all night, occasionally laying next to Leif to rest.  The contractions were strong but manageable and exciting.  Waves of gratitude and joy.  My July baby would sneak into June...a peace offering from the Universe after what had felt like a month of torturous hell.

The next day did, indeed, bring Rein to me... but the universe threw one last test at me first.  One last mountain would have to be moved when my head down baby that was so ready to be birthed turned transverse at 8 CM.  I'll save that story for tomorrow...  that story of grief and fear and pain that was necessary for Rein to take his first breaths.  

Tonight, I'll watch my boys as they drift off to sleep... Rein, in his last day as a 1 year old.  I'll probably cry as I think about how I wish I could keep them little forever and pray that Leif's promise "we'll always be your babies..." stays true.  I'll also cry knowing how incredibly lucky I am.  Lucky to be born with a particular skin color and in a certain country that allows me particular privileges.  Lucky that because of this skin color and country of origin, I will not have to worry about my boys being shot by police on a routine traffic stop.  I will probably never have to flee my home to save their lives.  I will probably never have them ripped from my arms or told they are being taken to be bathed, only to have them taken to a "tender age detention center".  Lucky because me and my children were born on 3rd base.  We didn't hit a triple.  No, it was just luck.  I'll cry because I know there are mamas out there grieving not knowing where their babies are.  I'll cry because our government has been in the business of ripping children from their mamas since the beginning.  I'll cry because just dipping my toes into that emotion makes me want to scream in agony.  

Tomorrow, on Rein's 2nd birthday, we'll march.  We'll march to let our government know that we will never be okay with treating living beings with such cruelty.  We'll never be okay with using this uniquely disturbing form of torture.  We'll march to let them know we won't shut up until all of those children are in their parents arms.  We'll march because we were born on 3rd base I want my children to know that when other's suffer, we all suffer. Their humanity is wrapped up in ours and ours in theirs. 

Mamas, Rise Up. We can do hard things.