Being Home

My daughter Lexi was born February 5th, 2002 in Tampa, Florida. Although those first several months are a blur and I felt like I never slept, I know that I did sleep sometimes. I know because a few months after she was born I started having a recurring dream. My dream took place at some vague point in the future and in it I was talking to my son. His name was Zane, he told me. I don't remember any other details, but it seems like each dream was the same and in it I just saw my son and he'd tell me his name was Zane. This dream came to me several times over a period of two to three months.

When Lexi was about 15 months old, Chris and I started trying to have a second child. Being over-educated, we applied all kinds of science to our challenge when I didn't get pregnant right away. I monitored my hormone levels and knew when I was ovulating. I read every book and magazine article about fertility and probabilities and best practices. We tried for five months with no success. Many articles noted that women who were too focused on getting pregnant stressed themselves out, which made it even harder to get pregnant. So, I tried to be relaxed, but I wanted another baby more than anything else in my life and it's hard to be relaxed about that.

Finally, in October, my period was late. I noticed the heightened sense of smell I'd had when I was pregnant with Lexi. I was pregnant!

A week later I had my first miscarriage.

In November, Chris got laid off from his job. In March, we sold our house and put our belongings in storage. In May, Chris, Lexi, Iko and I moved to Chico. Through it all, we kept trying to get pregnant. It finally paid off, because in June, I got pregnant. When I found out, my first thought was, "Now our family is complete!" I was ecstatic.

We were tentatively optimistic. We'd wait it out, make sure before we got excited. Two weeks after discovering I was pregnant, we finally went out to breakfast to celebrate.

I miscarried that evening.

Devastated, I took a break from the baby game. All summer, I cried, I whined, I complained, I grieved. I slept. More than once, my sister reminded me that Zane was out there somewhere, waiting for me. Finally, I was ready to start trying again. Many articles I had read promoted acupuncture as helpful tool for getting pregnant, so I went to an acupuncturist, hoping to balance anything in me that was out of balance and preventing me from getting pregnant . . . and staying pregnant.

Six weeks later I was pregnant again. Six weeks after that, Chris, Lexi, Iko and I went to the Bay Area to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. On Saturday morning, my 40th birthday, I noticed some bleeding and some funny little gray tissue when I went to the bathroom. Afraid I was miscarrying again, I called my midwife. Ever the practical person, she said either I was miscarrying or not, but either way there was nothing to do. We'd just have to wait. Freaked out, I packed up our stuff, fled my brother's house and drove home to Chico. All I wanted to do was go home and feel safe and comforted.

Monday morning, Chris and I heard Zane's heartbeat for the first time. Aaaah. That was the best sound I had ever heard.

I remembered all this during a USM trio this summer during our 6-day Lab. As I was recounting this story, I flashed on the May USM weekend when I was in L.A. and I developed a kidney stone. I recognized a pattern of having a devastating physical condition in my body that scared the shit out of me when I was far from home. In LA, I had felt the same way I did when I was pregnant: alone and helpless. I wanted to drop everything and run home to be safe and comforted.

And then I just laughed at how silly it was to think I wasn't home. I actually started giggling. I AM HOME. Home isn't a place, home is me. You can't go there or be separate from it. I am home. I am home. It's not part of me. It's not in me. Home is me.

In a spiritual sense, I knew that I am whole and complete in myself and at the same time, I am part of all that is. So, in a way, I am all that is, too. There is no separation from anything. I am a drop of water in the sea and I am the sea.

The power of this realization surprised and overwhelmed me. I was filled with joy and amusement at my misunderstanding -- my misperception that home is a place. I felt so solid and strong. Like a turtle, I could now be at home anywhere I went. But my home isn't a shell on my back. My home is me. My home is part of the essence that is me. Part of the essence of I AM. By virtue of my beingness, I am home.

I recognized that my body and soul are interwoven and inseparable. I am Spirit. I am body. I am me.

I Am Home.