The Sacred Yes

Jenn has started to have "muscle strains" in her belly. She is making plans for her jewelry business and wants to expand her exposure in various galleries, but really, she has been busy with nesting around the house, ironing diapers, cleaning the kitchen, organizing the baby supply room (formerly known as Tom's Meditation Space).

Today, Jenn said she's "feeling restless" and doesn't know why, but I suspect she does. Yes, we are heading down the home stretch.

I feel fully prepared and qualified to deliver our baby and am even willing to sever the umbilicus with my teeth (if necessary) once the cord has stopped pulsing. How do I know to wait for the placental pulse to cease? Here is a clip from a hand-out given to us by our midwife--a "To Do" list of pre-birth preparation:

"Stay Calm (Nice lead) and remember that birth is a natural, healthy process. Encourage mother to deliver baby's head slowly, by panting  if possible. Catch the baby's body (remember they're slippery!) and dry the baby with a clean, dry towel. Wrap the baby in a new, dry towel and wait for midwife to arrive. Keep the baby warm. Do not clamp/tie or cut cord. Leave the baby attached to the cord and wait for the placenta. If mother has cramping or gush of blood  from the vagina, the placenta is probably ready to deliver. Have mother push while you pull GENTLY on the cord. If the placenta does not come at this time, wait. If the placenta delivers, leave baby attached to the cord and placenta until the midwife arrives."

There is something so touching about this paragraph. I feel assured and encouraged that Jenn and I have no reason to panic or worry. Also, what can I say, I like drama. The image of delivering our baby in a driving snow storm is quite appealing, even if we are living in the desert in the middle of Summer.

Before Jenn and I left Oregon, a psychic told her that living in New Mexico would put her jewelry on the map, but being a mother would put her on the map. Jenn believes she can create the kind of birthing experience she desires with a positive attitude and the right mind. I couldn't agree more, but me myself, I tend toward a pessimistic view of life. More often than not I have severe doubts about human nature even while I love and foster undying hope in humanity.

As I rode my bike today along the arroyo trail, I reflected on this cynical, lifelong point of view that seems to have permeated my every fiber since birth.  I am the eternal optimess--always waiting for the other shoe to drop even whilst hundred dollar Nikes are raining from the sky. Thus, as I sweat (swat?) and pedaled, I asked myself this question: Why, when I have been so blessed, am I always braced for an energetic shot to the kidneys? To get to the bottom of this mystery, we must delve (insert wavy flashback lines here) and go back, back, back for a stroll down memory lane into -- Bum-bum-buh-bummmm! -- Tom's dark and seedy childhood.

Ha, Ha. Just kidding. The last thing I want to do at this stage is point a ruminating finger at, say, a hypothetical Jewish crone whose natural personality makes Eeyore seem like a party animal. Instead, I choose the high road (sort of, aside from the Eeyore allusion above) and accept my cynical optimism as both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it has taken said-hypothetical crone's son (i.e. me) and made him slightly Eeyore-esque in disposition himself; on the other hand, it has blessed the author with an above average sense of humor and a healthy lack of naivete.

This is not to say I don't aspire toward a sunnier disposition. I once asked Jenn how I could become  more positive as a human being, and she said without hesitation, "Change your thoughts." I feel in my gut that she's right, but have yet take the steps to turn her advice into reality. Jenn, however, is living proof of what is possible. She is a master of re-framing her world view to see the positive side of things, sometimes to the point of making a pest of herself. Off-and-on, I have suspected my wife of using the disingenuous technique of playing devils advocate rather than giving me her true and honest opinion. In actuality, it is a probably a rare event, but even if I'm wrong, it doesn't makes her "Maybe You-Can-See-Things-This-Way" advice any less annoying.  As you can see, I am a bit attached to my cynicism.

How this will manifest in fatherhood, I have no clue, but we are expecting our home birth to go into high gear any day. Lets see:

Birthing pool inflated? Check.
Midwife's two phone numbers stored in my cell phone? Check.
Chucks, shower curtains, and hose at the ready? Check.
Hundreds of garments of baby clothes folded and stored? Check?
Photographer lined up to record the blessed event? Check.
Stews and soups made and stored in the freezer to provide ready-made meals for the newly crowned mother? Working on it.
Inundation of visits from relatives and friends choreographed to help and support the new parents and, lets face it, because they want to be around a newly-delivered diving being? Double check.

Jenn and I are as ready as ready can be, which is to say, not at all. How does one prepare to have everything one once knew be turned on its head? Answer: Surrender to the process. Jenn and I go forward with profound gratitude and fear, excitement and Oh-My-God-Am-I-Really-Ready-for-This?

It started five years ago with a sacred Yes. While still in Oregon, I was fast approaching the end of my one year sabbatical. It had been a glorious year of writing, spiritual pursuits, and isolation, and I was preparing to return to New Mexico. But something inside, some intuitive hit told me it wasn't time yet. I closed my eyes and prayed. I said, "Spirit," I said, "whatever you send my way, the answer is Yes.

There have been four times in my life I have put this invitation out to the Universe with sincere intention, and each time it has lead to a major revolution in my life. This was not the exception.

I made the decision, as a symbolic gesture of my re-joining the planet (and with the mild hope of getting laid), to place an ad on the Portland Craigslist Personals. Around that same time, and more out of curiosity than anything, I visited some of the Oregon tribal websites. The last job I'd held in New Mexico was as a therapist at an urban clinic for Native Americans, and I was curious to see what the Northwest had going on. One tribe, The Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, happened to be advertising for a mental health counselor. I called them to see if I could have a tour of the facility. In the mistaken belief I wanted to actually apply for the position, the HR guy suggested I send my resume first and then he would show me around. My thinking was, Okay, if that's what I need to do to see the place...

At the same time, a cute and very authentic young redhead responded to my personal ad. On our first date, we went out to the airport and watched planes landing and taking-off and talked. Let me tell you, the sparks did not fly. Jenn thought I was handsome but uber serious; and I found her sweet (normally the kiss of death), real, and importantly enough, she had big hooters. On our second date we got to know each other a bit more, and my appreciation grew. At the same time, Grand Ronde called me for a an interview and shortly thereafter offered me the job.

Grapple, grapple.

I mulled things over for a couple-three days and came to the conclusion that there was no fucking way I was going to stay in the Northwest to be with a woman I barely knew to work at a job I didn't really want. I called the tribe, turned down the position, and told Jenn I would be returning to New Mexico in six weeks. I asked her if we could date a bit in the meantime, to which she smiled and said she yes.

The more we hung out, the more I began to question my decision. Was it time to take a leap?

"No way," said my ego, "I'm going home."

That was when I heard the whisper. You know the one. It sounds like one's own thoughts, but isn't. It said, "Ah-ah-ah, remember, you said the answer was 'Yes' to whatever I sent your way."

Fuck, shit, cunt!

I stomped and kicked around a bit, and then I called Jenn and told her I was considering staying. I let her know that there was no pressure to, you know, fall in love or anything, and that we could just check things out. Then I called the grand Ronde HR guy back and told him that when they offered me the job, things had been moving a bit fast; that I had reconsidered, and if the offer was still available I could guarantee them one year. (I ended up staying four years.)

So here I am. Because of the Sacred Yes, Jenn and I are married, living in the desert, and about to embark on the greatest adventure of either of our lives. We are bringing another being into the world who would have never existed if I had given into my fear and embraced the wobbly, familiar, fence-sitting "Maybe" of my previous career as a commitment-phobe.

Sliding doors open and closing in every moment.