Today we headed down to our house to do a walk through and make a list of all the things that needed fixing (oh, so many things need fixing). Sam hunted through the computer desk and procured an old notebook and pen and we set off. When we got in the car I opened the book, looking for a clean page to begin making notes. I was flicking past some of the first pages, filled with hastily written scribbles, when a word caught my eye and I turned back to read.

What I had happened upon today, almost two years after her birth, were the notes I made the day that Julianna was born. Time stopped for a moment as I quickly read through the words I had written that day, intended at the time to become the basis for a birth story not yet written. In an instant I was taken back to the day of her birth, remembering little things long since forgotten. What a gift those words are, especially since her chaotic birth wiped me of most detailed memories, and because the passage of time had blurred the edges of the memories I had held on to.

I didn’t intend for it to go this long. I always thought that eventually/very soon/maybe next week/month/year I’d get around to sitting down and really fleshing out the story, just like I did with Bella (a 19 page birth story is a lot to live up to). The poem I wrote for Jules IS the story of her birth, and is probably more meaningful to me than anything I have ever written - but it’s a poem, not a narrative, and there is so much left unsaid between the lines. I want so badly for Jules to have a record of her birth, but for some reason could never quite bring myself to the place I needed to be to write it. Over time it seemed less and less urgent, more and more difficult to begin - until here we are, approaching the end of her second year…no closer to a story than I was when she was born.

Finding these notes, notes I barely remember writing, was such a gift. I have a bad habit of thinking that if I can’t do things perfectly or completely then I just shouldn’t do them at all. In my mind, that means that everything I do I do well. What that means in reality is that a lot of worthwhile, necessary, wonderful things get left undone. I still don’t have the time I need to sit down and write it out completely or perfectly but I thought that for now, I’d just begin. I’ll begin by transcribing the notes I found today, writing them exactly as they were written, without changing format or structure, and interjecting my own thoughts (thoughts formed with two years of distance, insight and processing) here and there. These notes are choppy, often in shorthand, and give only the barest details. Still - it’s a start, and every story has to start somewhere.

[My current reflections in italics]

…
August Two
Contractions through the night - wake up, contract, pee, sleep. A different quality than the other night, harder.

[The weekend prior to her birth I had a night of contractions just like this, but as soon as the sun came up, everything stopped. ]

421am - in the bathroom again. Felt mucus when I wiped, turned on the light to see that it was tinged with blood. I shoot my head and thought “What do you know - August Two”.

[From my very first trimester Bella was absolutely sure that she was having a baby sister, who would be born on ‘August Two’. Nothing could dissuade her from that belief. Remind me to tell you what she said after the birth]

Contractions q8-12m, breathing through them now. “Inhale Peace, Exhale Tension”. Tried to get back to sleep, but my brain is awake now. “Slow, Gentle, Peaceful Birth”

[I used affirmations like the ones above often in my last few weeks of pregnancy, I had not remembered at all that I used them during labour. For those who don’t use medical shorthand q8-10m is just ‘every 8-10 minutes)]

5am - Sam woke from my breathing, at the end I said “Aug. Two” and he leaned in to kiss me.

[I never would have remembered that, and I smile now every time I think of it. What a delicious moment as we savoured this new beginning.]

Two ctx on toilet - did not like.

[So funny since I spent hours of Bella’s labour sitting on the toilet and would not budge even when the midwives tried their darndest to get me into different positions].

Facing fears…510am Things began spacing out q15-20 just as it became light. I know I would be crushed if this was not it, but have to admit this is out of my hands.

[For anyone who read my blog during this pregnancy, control was a big issue for me. Surrendering, and giving myself up to the experience was difficult. Having that night the week before where I was so sure things were beginning and then have everything totally stop was so hard for me. The idea that this could be happening again, five days after my due date was really hard for me to accept. Releasing this experience was a huge step for me, one I really needed to take.]

6am - downstairs to see what would happen

No ctx from 6-8. Cannot believe this is happening again. Feel like crying. Sam stays home from work so I can rest.

Ctx come back again, but sporadic. I get some sleep and Sam wakes up Bella around 9.

[That kid will sleep as late as you let her. She also does not like to go to bed at night. Her natural body clock does not fall in line with the one I’d like her to have - more control issues. Sigh.]

Between 10 and 11, ctx q15m.

[When I say every 15 minutes, that was such a rough estimate. They would come every 10 minutes, then twenty, then a half hour would go by without one. They would be short, then long, then short again. Always mild though, I remember talking to Marybeth on the phone at some point during the day, her holding a seven day old Sula Pearl, and hearing her tell me that I was in labour. I didn’t believe her, didn’t believe it was real, was afraid to believe it was real. I also remember taking a phone call from a mama who had been a part of the birth circles, and who was also awaiting the birth of her baby- I remember having a contraction while talking to her and thinking it was so bizarre that she couldn’t even tell].

11am - up to call birth team, both Marinah and Mani are so positive. Marinah says rest during day since this baby likes things to heat up at night. Ctx seem to keep coming as I am up and active, feel horrible on toilet, a little more pinkish mucous. Vampire baby, scared of light.

[I so clearly remember having that vampire thought. At that point I really didn’t think this was the real thing - it was so different than my experience with Bella - which was totally textbook in terms of timing and the stages of labour. I totally expected that it would be the same, maybe quicker, but still sensible. It was so odd how things would start a night and then grind to a total halt as soon as the sun was up. It was like the flip of a switch.]

1pm - Sam fills the tub

[That birth tub ROCKS, heated, soft sides, jets. Ahhhhhh….. It seems so cool to be to think that now; the very same tub is set up in Leigh’s bedroom, just awaiting the arrival of her Voodoo baby.]

Bella says “Is this labour for you?”

[I never would have remembered this, what a cute thing to have recorded. Such a small thing, but so meaningful. Having her involved in the birth preparations, and in the birth itself was an incredible experience]

I vacuum to kill time.

[Must have been in labour. Anyone who knows me will tell you that this is certainly not something I would normally do to kill time.]

4pm - ctx continued q10-15 getting stronger, 45-60sec. in shower, which helped. Last few ctx had been difficult, not breathing well, feeling light headed. Ctx changed to frequent but very short/mild. Checked cervix in shower - ?? effaced?? 2cm? Could feel bag of water. V. empowering. This morning I was still thick, slightly more than fingertip.

[Holy %$#2 it is hard to check your own cervix while lying in your bathtub at 40weeks 5 days pregnant. I cannot even begin to tell you the contortions necessary to accomplish this. I first learned to check my cervix when we were trying to conceive Bella - and I was learning the ins and outs of natural family planning. Not pregnant it’s fairly easy - not so much in early labour. This was huge for me though, having checked in the morning and then again in the afternoon, and being able to feel a difference (however small) was the first sign I had that maybe this was really happening after all. I wrote that it was very empowering, and it was. It was empowering when I first learned about NFP and gained that understanding of my body, and it was exponentially more so to be contracting, and to feel with my own hands what my body and baby were doing. Amazing.]

Had Sam make rice sock - heat on lower abdomen felt wonderful. On bed H&K leaning over pillows listening to music.

[I had a flash of memory about this, I remember trying to moan and playing with vocalizing during contractions. I remember the music in the background. I had made up a playlist of music on our computer, and listened to it constantly during the end of my pregnancy. Wonderful, relaxing music, filled with words and melodies that spoke directly to me. Someday maybe I’ll copy the list over here to share with you all. I also listened to these wonderful tapes every night before bed - but I don’t think I played them in labour, although I had ever intention of doing so. After the playlist ran through, we didn’t put on any more music. I wish I had been focused enough to ask for it, I had practiced relaxing to that music and those affirmations so often, I wonder if it would have helped me later on. H&K = hands and knees]

Sam’s handwriting - 5:23pm - entered pool

[I remember Bella floated with me in the pool somewhere around this time. There is a picture of us both smiling gently and leaning against the side of the pool. This was before my digital days and I have no idea where it is, but it was a lovely time for us to be together as mother and daughter one last time before Julianna was born. At this point, I still didn’t fully accept that this was the real deal. There was no rhyme or reason to things, they would space out, get closer together, get tough for a short period and then get mild again. The whole time I remember being so afraid to trust that it was really happening]

6pm - out of pool q5-8min 45-60.

…..
And that is the end of the notes.

Sometime between that last note at 6pm and 9:52 when Julianna was born, things got crazy. Fast. One minute I wasn’t sure I was really in labour and thought things could take forever, the next minute I was upside down with my eyes closed trying to figure out which way was up - at least that is how it seems in my memory. Now that I’ve at least got this started, I’m going to try to piece together the timeline of those last four hours and the time immediately following her birth.

Before she starts Kindergarten, I promise

Just so y’all don’t think I’ve gone and had a baby while leaving you hanging - thought I’d pop in and let you know that I am still most assuredly pregnant.

39 weeks, 2 days (not that I’m counting) and I’m feeling good, much too good to think that labour is imminent. I’m feeling quite happily ready whenever things occur. House is relatively clean, baby’s room is ready, diapers are washed, birth pool has been delivered and ready to go (I went with the pricey rental, and I’m in love). I feel like I need a good cry for some emotional release, but I’m too darn chipper to find something to cry about. I’m eager – but in an excited way, not in an irritable, done-with-being-pregnant, anxious sort of way. Of course, that could change in a single, hormonal instant – if I get suddenly cranky and emotional I’ll really start to wonder if things are happening.

I’m a ball of restless energy, and since the temps here have been hovering around 115, I’m spending lots of time (and unfortunately lots of money) wandering around the mall trying to keep myself moving. I would kill for some fresh ocean air right now, but summer in Arizona means housebound – no way around it.

I’m working on writing about my Blessingway from last week (oh – how amazing it was) and a few other updates on life in general, and pregnancy in specific, hopefully to be posted soon. I’ve got one more belly shot to post from 37 weeks, and I’ll try to get it up soon. The rest probably won’t be developed until after baby arrives, because we’re on the beginning of a 36 roll film right now (no – I’ve not made the switch to digital, I’m a devoted 35mm holdout and likely always will be).

Bella is planning her very first slumber party at best friend Taylor’s house tomorrow night, so Sam and I will get one last date before baby arrives. A night alone would be great too, but I’m not counting on the sleeping-over part of the sleepover actually working out – I have a funny feeling we’ll be getting a late night call to come get our girlie. Still – Sam and I will get some time alone before life once again changes forever, and that will be lovely.

Until next time.

Jeanette

PS: Why don’t you all distract me from waiting for my uterus to contract.

If I know you well, tell me something I don’t know about you - anything at all. If you’ve been lurking, introduce yourself and lets get to know one another. Who is out there reading, and what are you up to these days? What is your favorite-est blog in all of cyberspace – the one you obsessively check every day for new posts? Did you get cranky before you went into labour, or were you Pollyanna to the end? Keep me busy, make stuff up if you must – my wallet can’t take too many more trips to the mall.

And a little bit of Bella too:

My birth team didn’t come fully assembled, the way I would assume most do. Because of my complex feelings about this birth, and about who would ultimately be present, it felt very important to me to be able to carefully select each and every person who would play a role in this pregnancy and birth. The three women who will be a part of this birth are very different; what ties them together is the level of trust and faith I have in each of them, and the level of trust and faith they have in the power and mystery of birth. I know I’ve asked a lot of them, and I’m so glad that they were open and willing to come together to create exactly what I envisioned - a team of women who inspire me, who I trust and love, and who will be with us as we welcome our beloved baby.

The Midwife: Marinah

Where on earth do I begin to describe my lovely, delicious midwife Marinah?

Do I begin with her warmth, her incredible energy, her devotion to her calling or her fascinating complexities?

Should I start by telling you that by requiring so much of me and by challenging me to tackle the difficult questions, she has compelled me to require more of myself?

Maybe I could talk about how she is mysterious, an enigma; a woman who manages to lay me bare while keeping herself tightly contained.

Do I explain how I wanted her to be perfect, and she wasn’t – and I wanted me to be perfect – and I’m not, and how that understanding that was hard and hurtful, but also has been such an incredible point of growth for me.

I could tell you how we broke up and I cried, and we made up and got back together and I was cautious and guarded. Then we finally figured it all out and I quietly rejoiced inside, as the walls I had placed around me crumbled away bit by wonderful bit.

Perhaps I could tell you about her earthiness, grooviness, her new-agey spirit, her hippy-love-child vibe, or the universal love and palpable energy that radiates from within her and warms those around her?

I could share that I have never come across someone who loves and serves women in the way that she does, but I couldn’t hope to explain what it feels like to witness and experience that love.

Should I begin with the story of how I went from placing her on a pedestal to understanding she is human, and not perfect and being able to approach her as an equal, and only then did our relationship begin to move forward.

Perhaps I should share how she has managed to help me move from tight, guarded and distrustful to loose, open and full of faith - so that I think when she hugs me I could melt into her arms and stay safe forever.

I could share how surprisingly easy it was to be vulnerable with her when I was in the hospital. How I was amazed with my willingness to lean my weight on her and let her carry my pain, how that told me a great deal about my ability to trust her.

Do I tell you about all our miscommunications and bumps in the road, and about how she has managed to frustrate me beyond belief on more than one occasion because we are so incredibly different and understanding one another has not been easy? Or about how I’m equally sure I frustrate and challenge her on a regular basis…because I am not an easy woman and am likely not an easy client.

I could tell you how her intentions and beliefs are so strong that it is easy to accept that the universe would not possibly defy her. That when she says I will have a beautiful birth and an uncomplicated third stage, that this time I will not bleed – I believe her with all my heart and soul, because I feel like she has already seen it happen.

Possibly you’d like to know that it is easy to forget how young she is, because she is an old soul and exudes a sage, ancient sort of feminine wisdom that defies her age and experience.

You would probably be interested to learn about the depth of her faith in pregnancy, birth, and babies. You would likely be fascinated by her awareness that her clinical knowledge and experience are just a small part of her role as a midwife. You would be inspired if I shared her willingness to humbly place power and control in the hands of the woman, the heart of the baby being born, and in the awesome wonder of birth itself.

Do I admit that I could never imagine to reduce her to words and leave it at that?

Marinah dearest – thank you for taking me further than I ever imagined I could go. I am eagerly anticipating being ‘loved up’ by you for the next few weeks, and again during my birth. Although our path has not been without challenges, I will always remember something you said to be in the beginning – that growth is rarely easy, but always worthwhile. You are a gift to me and to the women of this community. I am glad that we found our way to each other, and look forward to a long relationship and continued learning from one another. I meant what I said on our date last night: you’re not going to get rid of me easily!

The Assistant/Midwife/Friend: Robin

Mentor, colleague, friend.

Robin is the only member of my birth team who was also a part of my pregnancy with Bella. She was a student midwife at the time, and birthed her seventh baby in the early part of my own pregnancy. Because of this, during Bella’s pregnancy she is probably the one of the three midwives that I knew the least. Since then, despite hectic lives and limited time together, our friendship has grown and strengthened and reached a true and abiding depth that feels like forever.

Robin has been a doula and a childbirth educator for many years and is a newly licensed midwife in her own right. It is from her that I learned many of the lessons that allowed me to embrace my passion for birth and become a doula myself. Without her wisdom and guidance, helping me drop my judgmental attitude and open myself to the fact that each birth and each woman must be respected for what they are – I could never have been a good doula. The word mentor means “teacher or trusted counselor”, Robin has been both to me many times over.

Ours is not a friendship based on flowery descriptions or superlatives, it just is; solid and steady and strong and dependable. Robin was the first person I went to when I started having doubts and questions about how I would birth this child, long, long before this pregnancy was a reality. She listened and advised and kept me sane as I asked a million unanswerable questions. She accepted my confidences and worries and frustrations, and held them for me as I figured out where I needed to be. I trust her in a way that I can trust very few people, with absolute and complete faith and without reservation. I would place my life in her hands, and know that she would care me and this baby with all of her heart, soul, body and mind.

Her voice, her aura, her very presence are calming to me. I remember when pregnant with Bella telling my midwife that if Robin brought only her voice to my birth - that soothing, wonderful, peaceful voice - that I knew I would be okay. Her voice may be her most valuable tool, I hear it and know that all will be well. She is gentleness personified, when she palpates my belly her hands softly dance around my abdomen and it is impossible not to feel softened and loved by her touch. There is nothing harsh or hard about Robin – I can picture her face and feel at peace.

Robin: I am so eager to watch you grow into your new role as a midwife, excited because I know that you will gift numerous families with the same wonderful qualities that make me love you so much. Your midwifery instincts, your faith in women and birth, your ability to care without judgement and your deep and strong faith will serve you well as you begin this new stage in your life. I feel blessed that you will once again accompany me in this miraculous journey to birth, it feels so right that you will be there to watch my second child come into the world, just as you witnessed Bella’s first moments on earth.

The Friend/Partner/Doula/Midwifery Student: Mani

My Mani, my heart.

Mani came into my life through an act of blessed serendipity, and the rewards have been great.

I had no idea when I responded to a brief email from Mani last spring - asking if anyone in our local AP email list wanted to form a birth circle - that one year later we would not only be partners, directing a fully functioning non-profit organization, but also have a steadily deepening and beautifully rewarding friendship.

I’m sure that neither of us would have predicted that we, two incredibly different women, would often feel as if we share the same brain. I’m the prototype girlie-girl, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Mani in anything but jeans. Mani has had a vivid and colourful life, while my own past, in its various shades of beige, seems pale in comparison. To the rest of the world I think we must seem the odd couple indeed. Somehow though, it works.

I know I had no idea that she would make me feel so safe that I had no problem imaging her at my birth, even at a time when I didn’t know if I wanted anyone there at all. It generally takes me a long time to trust, with Mani it seemed almost instantaneous.

Mani sees beauty in me that I have trouble seeing in myself, she raises me up and sees inside of me in a way few people have ever been able to. She bears witness to the truths in my life, and helps me open my own eyes so that I can see them too. She always knows what questions to ask so that I can find my own answers. She is fair, she is wise, she is funny, she is strong. She is deeply principled, a woman of great faith, openness and acceptance. While most of us ultimately struggle with being open to life and all it offers, Mani embodies this spirit.

She is the mother of three beautiful daughters, each incredible in her own unique way. Mani cherishes and respects and encourages those differences, and her children shine as the most amazing examples of her love and devotion, their vastly different personalities nurtured and guided so that they are able to be themselves without reservation. She is an inspiration to me as a mother.

Mani: You once explained to me that your name means ‘jewel’ in Sanskrit. It seems fitting to me that this name is the one that chose you, because you are so incredibly precious – to me and to the rest of the people whose lives you have touched. I know that you believe in my ability to birth this baby more than anyone else, and that faith carries me so far and so high that I feel like I am soaring. I cannot possibly explain to you what you’ve meant to me over the past year, so I’ll just finish with the same words I started with – My Mani, My Heart.

My belly now.

My belly is so unbelievably round – like a globe – holding an entire universe inside its borders.

It’s smooth topography is only broken by my protruding belly button, and by the occasionally jutting body parts of the child I carry within.

My skin is translucent, marked by a complex road map of blue veins, the faint line of my linea nigra traveling upward in a path to my heart. It looks fragile and reminds me how close my blood is to the surface, how close my baby is to this world.

It is firm and heavy, seemingly filled to capacity with beautiful baby, life giving placenta, sweetly nourishing fluid, and then expanding even more to obligingly accommodate continuous growth.

It is strong and stretchy and adaptable, it is in charge. All other organs and body parts bow down and make way for the undeniable needs of my uterus and this miraculous, incredible, awe-inspiring belly.

It is filled with the noises of my heart, my body, and my voice and the myriad other sounds of which our life’s soundtrack is composed. Through the layers of skin, muscles and organs, these sounds travel and vibrate and make their way into my womb. The sound of my dogs barking and Bella laughing and Sam and I softly murmuring in bed at night all become a part of our child’s soul.

It is womanly, and sexy and goddess-like and ripe beyond description. It is soft and it is strong. It is the core of my being, where my heart resides. It houses my sacred power and femininity. It is the outer marker of my inner transformation – one that others can only imagine they understand.

My heart above, my birth canal below, my baby within.

My belly now.

I apologize if this is not all that well written - pregnancy seems to have zapped all but three of my brain cells, as Bella so kindly told me the other day “Mama, I don’t think you have a brain in your head”.

I’ve a tendency toward flakiness at the best of times, and as my mental capacity seems to diminish by the day, that tendency seems a little more apparent. Apparently, as my belly grows, my brain shrinks. Interesting.

I fully intended to write more about this tonight, since my pregnancy is rapidly approaching it’s conclusion and I really want to write about all of this– but after awkwardly limping through the first part, I finally had to admit defeat and give up for the evening. I know my promises mean little, but I’ll do my utmost to finish up soon.

To those of you who have been following along with my life since Bella’s pregnancy, it might come as quite a surprise that I’ve chosen a different midwife this time around. After all – I had a wonderful pregnancy and a great birth, with a team of midwives that I loved, respected and trusted. Why the change of heart?

Well – I can’t even say that I totally understand it. It began as an inkling, tugging at my subconscious, and continued till it was too strong to ignore. My instincts kept telling me that there was something else I needed for my next pregnancy, that I had lessons to learn and integrate into my life and this journey of mine into the world of birth. I felt strongly that there was someone out there who was to be my guide on this path, and that, as difficult as it seemed, it was probably not my first midwife.

I love P. I will always love her. She was the perfect midwife for my pregnancy with Bella, and for her birth. She was exactly what Sam and I needed at the time, and made our decision to birth at home much easier than it would have been otherwise. She inspired our confidence and earned our trust. We had an easy relationship right from the start, a rare understanding. We had fun together, there was always lots of laughter, our personalities meshed well. We had no doubts from the first night we met with her that she would be our midwife. I learned so much from her, and it was her passion for her calling and her encouragement that led me to consider a career in birth myself.

I felt guilty and sad even considering that idea she would not be my midwife, but yet that nagging feeling got stronger over time. I could not let go of the notion that this birth was meant to take me other places, that it was to involve other people. That I was a very different person than I had been four years ago, with very different needs, and that my second pregnancy was meant to take me through a whole new process of growth and change.

I have been on a path toward greater and greater trust in birth for a long time now, with everything I learn and witness bringing this belief further and deeper into my spirit and soul. I knew that for this birth I needed very hands off care, if I was to be able to accept care at all. If I was to welcome a woman into my life as my caregiver, I needed someone who trusted in birth at least as much as, and probably even more than I did, so that I could continue this journey of increasing my trust in the process and in myself. That person would need to believe 100% that I was not only capable of birthing without her, but be willing for me to do so if I chose. Seems paradoxical to want a midwife who didn’t think she was really needed – but I can’t think of any better way to put it.

When I was totally honest with myself, I was able to realize that my views on birth had changed to such an extent that I felt they were no longer totally in line with P’s views. I don’t feel in any way that P’s approach to birth is wrong in any way – she was perfect for me when I was pregnant with Bella, and I regularly recommend her to people searching for a midwife. She is an excellent midwife, a woman of great knowledge and skill. However, I knew that I felt differently about many things than I did with my last pregnancy, and that these differences would be very important in my future pregnancy and birth experiences

[All this confusion was confounded, of course, by my attraction to unassisted birth, and all my turmoil in that direction…. but I’ve already told that story, so I’ll take that out of the equation completely right now and just focus on the midwife dilemma.]

This was actually so difficult for me that it was among the reasons we postponed pregnancy for as long as we did. I just couldn’t come to terms with the idea that I would somehow have to make this decision, and - even more difficult – tell P. that I was not going to be her client the second time around. I agonized over this for months, trying to work up the strength to talk to her about my concerns before I conceived, but never quite getting there.

The relationship between a client and midwife is such a personal one. Over the course of a pregnancy a homebirth midwife normally spends many, many hours getting to know a couple; their hopes and dreams and fears. She knows what is normal for them, how they move, how they speak, how they communicate with one another. She understands, at least on some level, their strengths, weaknesses and idiosyncrasies. She becomes a part of their life to such an extent that it is very common to hear a woman who has birthed at home talk about experiencing midwife withdrawal. I know that after Bella’s birth I felt a little lost without our regular contact, and mourned the inevitable change in our relationship.

Beyond those facts, in the time since Bella’s birth, P. had gone from being a beloved midwife to a dear friend. It was not like choosing a different OB the second time around, and never having to see the first doctor again. We’re both a part of a relatively small local birth community, and thus travel in many of the same circles. Regardless of what happened to our relationship because of my choice, our paths were bound to cross.

I was several weeks along when I finally worked up the nerve to go visit P at her house. I told her I was pregnant, and she was so excited. Very soon afterwards I told her I was not sure who I would choose as my midwife, and her surprise and hurt was as evident as I imagined. We had a long chat that day, a good chat – and discussed the events of Bella’s birth, and my reasons for my confusion with an honesty that we had never before approached. It was hard, but it was good and I left feeling emotionally drained. She respected the fact that I came to her personally before seeking out other midwives, and I hoped beyond hope that our relationship would survive this, inevitably changed, but still strong. I knew that it would be awkward and uncomfortable for some time to come, and that she would still have to take some time to process my decisions and the reasons behind them – but I had high hopes that over time we would be able to recover our old friendship.

…To be continued when I’m not so dang tired J ….