Giving birth grey

As in grey hair(s). As in deeply etched in crows feet. As in I'm tired, but still ecstatic. It's been a decade since I have given birth. A DECADE. This may not seem like such a big deal for some people, but to me it's a crazy-big deal. I gave birth to 4 babies in 5 years; 2000, 2002, 2003 & 2005. Baby making, birthing and lactating is all I knew for awhile. And it made me feel complete. I was put here on this planet to Mom, and Mommin' is what I excelled at.

But then, life happened. And 10 years has gone by. 10 Years not full of birth, babies, and Mom dates at swimming pools teaching our toddlers to swim. 10 Years has gone by and it's been full of a different kind of growth. Growth of me. I've had to work full time and put my baby in day care- a baby I still breastfeed and slept with. I couldn't be a stay at home Mom anymore. I had to figure out how to raise my children on only my income. And I did.

 Mixed in those 10 years of various full time jobs were love relationships that eventually feel apart but that I am still so grateful for, new friendships with people who didn't have children (this was a biggy- I didn't think we would have anything in common!). I went to college, earned one of those fancy degrees. I learned I loved free time, and jogging, and yoga, and dancing, and yes- vodka cranberries. I found a new me. I liked her. She was complimentary with the Mom me. I had found a balance, with Mommin' and working, playing and free time and dating.
Fast forward those 10 years.
I am now 33.
I am engaged.
I work full time.
I am pregnant.
 My kids are 14, 11 and 9 (so soon to be 15, 12 &10. Double digit take over!). My fiancee also has a daughter who is soon to be 10.
My new life is full of big kids, and budgeting, and family vacations. And soon a baby. A baby that will tie the new me with the old me. Because I need both, because I love both. Because both the full time young Mama Erin who devoted her entire being to raising her babies, and the full time working, fun, single Mama Erin are still in me. They will never leave me. They complete me, like this new baby will. A full circle of life, a colorful life, to bring me back to my first true love; birth.

Full belly (but not quite yet done)

The Flow of winter

What is it about snow and ice that drives inspiration? Not the kind of inspiration to get outside and experience the wonders of the rocky mountain winter wonderland surrounding me, but the kind of inspiration that makes me want to write about life. Or craft something, or try a new recipe that will make my kids fall in love with my cooking all over again.  

It must come from the natural hibernation and calmness of nature that lights an inner flame and gives me that push. I’m happy for that push- cause it only seems to come about once a year. It could also be the fact that I'm almost 6 months pregnant, and I can't do too much else but awaken my inner nesting self to create things around me.

But I dread the month of February more than anything- I always hope that by being super crafty and staying busy in January that it will keep me sane and happy through the most dreaded month of all.

There’s too many events that happened in February that I don’t know how to completely process yet. First, there’s February 13th, which marks the birthday of my 2nd child who died at 20 days old in 2003. And there’s February 28th, which will now mark the day an avalanche ripped into my back yard and buried my 2 youngest children. This happened last year, with my daughter being partially buried and my son being completely buried. My daughter was able to get herself out of the compacted snow and debris, but my son wasn't found until an hour and half later. My children are fine, they lived through it with minimal injuries. They still go to therapy. My daughter has triggers. She also has new fears, ones which we are learning to adapt to and help her through. Ones that will always be there. I watched the whole thing happen from my bedroom window- and will be continuing my therapy for quite some time.

Having to face the trauma of almost losing more children last year has forced me into finally facing the trauma of losing my son, Wind, almost 13 years ago. He died of CMV pneumonia. He died in his sleep, nestled in the crook of my right arm, in our family bed.

I’m currently trying to be creative in new ways to honor and remember him, rather then forget or avoid the inevitable day that will bring tears and grief. And now I must do the same for February 28th-the day of the avalanche. I must find a way to not be scared of this day, or to be scared of the snow building up on Mount Jumbo. I need to reteach myself to see this mountain in all its beauty and strength, and not as a looming reminder of an event that almost took my children's lives.
These two events in February are definitely different, but are also tied together in some ways I don’t quite fully understand yet. I think letting go of fear will be one of my lessons finally learned down the road from now.

Letting my creative juices flow for the sake of saving and maintaining my health is more difficult than I thought it would be. And so worth it. I’m savoring the fact that I’m in the trenches of trauma with an end finally in sight, and all I need is some more inspiration and guidance to learn how to make it flow, and continue to flow. Kind of like a creek or river in the middle of winter; the water continuously flows under the ice and snow, you just don’t always see it. But it’s there, flowing, just like it should be.  

My Bitterroot Feat

Being a Mom is difficult. Being a single Mom, that’s even more of a challenge. How can I find the time, energy and the guts to take my kids out doing my most favorite activity ever? Backpacking with 2 kids, now that’s a challenge, single parent or not. But this was a challenge I felt ready to take on and conquer. We had already done a 2-night backpacking trip with some friends in Canyon lands, Utah during the previous spring break. I knew that they were capable of hiking multiple miles as long as we took plenty of rest breaks, and that I gave them lollipops every time we stopped. My son Phoenix, and daughter Coral, were finally old enough during this trip to carry their own packs for the first time. It didn’t take nearly as long researching kid gear as it does for my own gear, and within an hour, with the kids stamp of approval, I ordered the REI Comet for my 9-year old, and the Osprey Jet 18 for my 7-year old. 

Coral and Phoenix 

            

I procrastinated for a month or so in the summer before I finally made set plans for an over night trip with just me and my kids in the majestic Bitterroot Mountains in Western Montana. I choose a trail that would lead us to a small lake to camp next to, with a larger lake named Glen Lake only a short distance from there, thinking that besides the fact of needing a water source, a lake would be a great destination to keep reminding my kids about while they climbed uphill. The hike was a little less than 3 miles from the trailhead to Glen Lake, with a 1,080-foot elevation gain. We have gone on plenty of day hikes, and I have found that my kids can’t go much more than 5 miles a day trekking around mountains without having a complete break-down, so finding Glen lake at a 3 mile hike sounded perfect for my little adventurers.  They were super excited about our upcoming excursion, and to also to use their packs once again.

            We headed out of Missoula towards Victor on an early Tuesday morning in August. We made it to the trailhead around noon, and all three of us were giddy with excitement while we did our final pack inspections. With Phoenix being the youngest, he was carrying the least, and was toting his pajamas, extra socks, his chap stick, a deck of cards, water bottle, mousy (a small stuffed animal mouse that has seen more mountain summits than some adults I know).  He also insisted on carrying all 12 fruit leathers just in case he got hungry, which happens every 45 minutes on the dot. Coral was psyched and very proud of everything she could carry in her pack. She had been practicing at home, stuffing her pack with various snack foods, clothes and toys and walking up and down the stairs. For this trip, she was hoisting her own sleeping bag, sleeping pad, pajamas, extra socks and her watterbottle.

Coral gazing out at the Bitterroots On the Glen Lake Trail. 

Kids playing cards at campsite.

 I helped them buckle their packs and tie their shoes, handed Coral her trekking pole and then heaved my own pack on my back (Here’s a parenting tip: always make sure the kid’s shoes are tied before everyone has their pack on. This will save you ten minutes and a bit of sanity). Coral and Phoenix were already running ahead of me towards the trailhead, and I couldn’t help feeling like the luckiest Mom in the world. I was literally beaming with pride. Now, I’m not going say that the hike went off without a hitch, because that would be an outright lie. While doing different outdoor activities with my kids over the years, I have learned the #1 rule in parenting outdoorsy kiddos, and that’s to not push them over their limits. It’s not worth it on so many levels, one reason being stuck in the middle of no where with a kid who is laying down on a trail, kicking and screaming that they hated this trip and that they wanted to go home. I’ve been there, and learned my lesson. We have a rule that was put in place the 2 years prior while hiking up to a fire lookout in the same area; when the trail starts to get steep, stop and take a breather at every other switch back. And that’s what we did for the last mile. It may have taken an hour longer than I expected, but we had no other place to be. This is exactly where we were supposed to be, and all 3 of us arrived at Glen Lake in high spirits and with huge grins. For the rest of afternoon and evening, we splashed around in the lake, collected firewood, ate hotdogs and marshmallows (best dinner ever!), and played the card game war until dusk.

After I doused the fire with water, and lay down next to my kids in our blackdiamond mega mid, I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself.  I wasn’t letting being by myself keep me from sharing these special moments with them. To be completely honest, we were helping each other with the task of being, and staying strong to do stuff like this, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Enjoying marshmallows, and each other. 

        

inspiration on a whim

I just recently found out, more like remembered, that I created this blog in April of 2009. I honestly only have a small recollection of even doing this. What I think happened was that I must have had a real strong creative moment, and then just as quick as it came, it fled my mind (as it often does). I easily get inspired, and easily get distracted. My life is a whirlwind of school, work, children, and finding enough time in between all that to feed my inner   explorer so I don't go completely bonkers. 
The reason why I'm now just starting to write is because I finished a winter-session class 2 days ago that put a lot of things in perspective for me. It was called Ethnographic field methods, and this class has made me think about a lot of things with different kinds of ethnographies, particularly peoples memoirs, and the various ways we all hang on to our own history.