Life

Chasing that firefly

Youth is wasted on the young. It’s what they say, isn’t it?

I was just a kid when I started a birthday tradition to write a blog post reminiscing the past age. Granted, this tradition is only four years old, but thinking back on when I was writing my good-bye letter to age 23, it’s a kid I’m looking at.

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Life

The Birth of Idris Masamune Hanaumi

We pull up to the empty parking lot and I wince, contracting. When it passes, Kent asks me if I want to go in. I don’t see Andrea’s car yet, so I opt to wait a bit longer, but then Michelle walks up to us and helps me out of the car. The three of us make our way towards Austin Area Birthing Center just as Andrea arrives. Relief sets in; our access to communication is here. Wait, another contraction. Oww. Okay, it passes. Inside, I meet my midwife for the first time, Victoria, and she shows me to my birthing room.

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My Birthing Playlist

Stars The Night Starts Here
Death Cab For Cutie – Soul Meets Body
James Blunt – Out Of My Mind
Nobuo Uematsu – One-Winged Angel
Taylor John Williams – Falling Slowly 
Sixpence None the Richer – There She Goes 
The Cure – Lovesong 
Gigi D’Agostino – I’ll Fly With You 
The Presets – Girl and the Sea
James Blunt – High
Solange – Rise
Sondre Lerche – Sleep On Needles
Calvin Harris – Feel So Close
James Bay – Let It Go
Holly McNarland – Beautiful Blue
Placebo – Pure Morning
Maroon 5 – Secret
Eva Cassidy – Songbird
Aqualung – Strange and Beautiful (I’ll Put a Spell on You)
Five For Fighting – 100 Years

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Life

Releasing expectations at 39 weeks

This morning, I commenced my maternity leave from work with red raspberry leaf tea and meditation. As I felt the hot liquid trickle down my throat and warm my core, I induced my thoughts to settle like the sand in a cup of water that was recently stirred but is now still. It was then I realized what had been hovering over my head the past week: Expectation. Despite repeated caveats that every birth and every body is different, I had formed expectations.

I had been expecting labor to begin anytime since Thursday, December 29th, when I found out my cervix was 1 centimeter dilated and 60% effaced. I had been expecting to have the same experience as my mom, who was 1 centimeter dilated with me for 10 days before she went into labor (which would have been yesterday for me). I had been expecting that my baby, like me, would be one of the 5% born on their due date (it seemed fateful that the due date would fall on my mom’s birthday, January 11th). And now, two days away from the due date, with my cervix still at 1 centimeter dilated, but 80% effaced, and only mild cramps pointing to signs of labor, I am faced with the realization that it is very possible that the average delivery date for first-time moms being a week and a day past the due date will apply to me.

Most of all, I had been expecting that labor would go a certain way: free of medical intervention, sensual and otherworldly, and–like my pregnancy–relatively easy. But, as I was reminded this morning when I read a text from a friend who had recently given birth by an unexpected c-section, you can never predict how labor will go. If I find myself entering a new week next Monday still pregnant, so be it. If I find myself at 42 weeks pregnant with a 10-pounder chilling in my womb, so be it. If I find myself needing to be transferred to a hospital from my birthing center, so be it. If nothing goes the way I expected, so be it.

Sipping the last of my tea, I repeated an affirmation: My birth will happen exactly the way it should.

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Life

Another year, another age

Last week, I embarked on my 27th spin around that great ol’ ball of fire. The day went by like a gentle whisper, starting with a brunch at Kerbey Lane Cafe with K and then strolling around Laguna Gloria before popping in a free lettering workshop and heading home for a movie on the couch with our pups. While I have nothing against big birthday celebrations and in fact enjoy them occasionally, I generally have a preference of welcoming a new age by reminiscing on the previous one. I’ve spent the last few birthdays clacking away at my keyboard and reliving the most memorable moments of the year past. This time, it took me a little more than a week to get through age 26.

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Review: Hyperion

Hyperion
Hyperion by Dan Simmons
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Hyperion transcends time and genre. This book is a tale of tales. Seven pilgrims on a journey towards the same destination, but each with their own agenda and motives. The only way to learn more about the futuristic universe of the Hegemony is to take a trip through each person’s past. With each tale shared, the mystery shrouding the Shrike and the Time Tombs is revealed–little by little–yet leaves you with more questions. A fleshed-out, alluring piece of literature that any reader with a love for Science Fiction must experience.

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