moving inward

Our house really only consists of two rooms, so here they are, in their splendor. Kitchen-livingroom-diningroom. And bedroom. We also have a bathroom and a cellar. Both of which Nick and I find infinitely convenient and fun, but neither of which are particularly photogenic. Actually, the bathroom is quite pretty. But who wants to see a photo of a bathroom? It is small. Remarkably so. As though it were built for a very small man. The shower head was placed so the stream of water hits you square in the chest. Very European we say, under the perhaps misguided impression that all European conveniences (including showers) are small by American standards. The bathroom was also bestowed a skylight. So, while bathing you can spy on the how the cows, chickens, and sheep are all doing on their respective plots of grass. You can't see the pigs nor the goats from that vantage though....every skylight has its limits.

This is our home, in two photos. It is slightly bigger than our former. It was built, 25 years ago, as the beginning of a man's retirement home. Sadly, his wife was struck with a tumor in the brain and the two were never able to realize old age here. Since then, few have really lived here but for the occasional caretaker. So, in many ways it feels like a new house, virtually unlived.

It is within the walls of this little house that is now Ours (with that very capital 'O') that I have been cocooning. Moving inward as I try to describe it to friends. It is not for a lack of outdoor activity. Between the garden, the forest work, the milkings, the fence moving, and the growing number of animals I have been spending in fact a good number of exhausting hours outside. But the house has become my womb as I move inward. As I reach 36 weeks I have been making the concerted point to slow down. To give myself the head space to reflect on the arrival of this baby boy. How I envision the birth. How I envision my future as his mother. How I see Nick and I now, and who we will be with our son.

I haven't been able to give this pregnancy much reflection in the past couple of months as we moved farm and home and as the tremendous responsibility of the spring thaw fell upon us. Before we moved I had a belly and I felt the flutter of his kicks but now I can hardly put socks on without Nick's help and we can feel our son's feet kicking my ribs. He wakes me up nearly every morning with hiccups. He starts moving (or dancing?) whenever Nick picks up the guitar. He has become a real human being in this third trimester. He has become our son and I his mother and Nick his father. We have worked frantically in the past two months to prepare home and farm for his arrival. We are still working frantically, though Nick more so than I. His car seat is promised to arrive today. His bassinet is in place. I even got a couple packs of newborn disposable diapers for the first weeks.

My sister arrives for the summer on Saturday. And once she does, perhaps unbeknownst to her, I will be slowing down even more as she helps me with my chores and Nick with his. No matter how much the farm needs me, I won't be going full steam from dawn to dusk much longer. If this means the garden has to go to the weeds, so be it. I want to lay on the hammock outdoors or snuggle up in our bed next to his bassinet. At least once a day. Just maybe for 20 minutes to talk to him and to prepare myself for his coming.

So, my apologies for the speckled silence here. I have no intention of letting this blog go as it is the only place I record anything in any kind of consistent manner. But everything will gradually slow down in the coming months. The farm work, the emails, the blogging, the visitors. Our attention must naturally be allowed to focus on the importance of this summer; the safe and healthy birth of our first son.

Ok, enough babbling, I must go move milk and then play with the goats in the forest as we four try to save an old apple orchard from the encroaching woods. Nick is picking up lumber this morning to start building the platform for the yurt. My sister is going to need a place to sleep after we run her exhausted with all these farm chores every day.