This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Friday, September 17, 2010

Back to Those Switch-backs and a Story

I resolved what to do about my therapist before I had reached the crest of the switch backs.  After having that in the bag I realized that I wanted to just keep on talking aloud about whatever came to mind on my hike.  I began talking to the baby in my belly then.  I sat on a bench for a few minutes reprieve and just started talking to him.  Before I go on further to tell you the story let me give you two details.  I, we, don't know the sex of the baby, we're not going to know until after he or she is pushed out sometime this December.  However, at about the halfway mark of my pregnancy I began to get a feeling of the sex of the baby.  A hunch, which may or may not be correct, had finally come to me after months of me just really know knowing at all.  The consensus seems to be, from me, Hadj, and some family members I spent time with in Colorado recently, that we can call it "he."  The other detail is that we have known the name of our child to be since before my first trimester was over.  I was keeping it a secret for a long time, but now, after months of waiting and still more months of waiting ahead, I am too excited to do much concealing any more.  I haven't been volunteering it around, but now I will.  The name of kid is going to be, whether he is a he or a she, Salamander.  We haven't decided on what the last name will be at this point, but we do know that the first and middle are Salamander T. 

Welcome to the internetz little buddy!
I absolutely adore the name, it tickles me pink and I just can't help but smiling when I think or say it.  Sometimes we still call him Niblet, my mom's given nickname for our fetus, but more and more he is Salamander and Sal.  Yesterday, I sat on a bench along the beautiful trail, I told Salamander the following little story about me. 

Several months before I got pregnant I was still under the delusion that this was the year of total reconstruction.  I have come to see that it's been much more a year of deconstruction than I expected, but that was then and you have to start somewhere.  As part of my attempt to totally remake my life I took a part time job and decided to dedicate the rest of a full time work week to creative aspirations, namely, writing.  I wanted to try my hand a more focused attempt to write fiction.  As part of this process I decided to begin by creating a really full character and some supporting characters then to place this character in situations and see what he did.  I asked Hadj to give me the character's name.  He gave me Salazar.  I began my writing and it turned out that the character was me and the story was real, but what I had done was change a few key details to make it fiction.  I had made Salazar male, gay, and Mexican-Jewish descent.  However I kept Hadj real and the rest of the story that didn't have to change remained real to my life.  One thing I did accidentally though was to change Salazar's name to Salvador.  I just remembered it wrong, then realized I had done so and become sort of attached to it. 

One cool day, while I was working on this project, I decided to get out for a solo hike at Twanoh, just like I did yesterday.  I walked and walked and at about the peak, right at about where the bench I was sitting on as I told this story to my baby-in-utero yesterday, Sal invaded my mind.  He invaded my mind and became a part of me.  He became the male energy representation of myself in my mind.  He used the opportunity to teach me about strength, perseverance, and confidence in myself.  He taught me, as I went down the last mile of the hike, how to find my rhythm jogging.  He encouraged me, pushed me, but didn't bark at me.  He showed me strength without overbearance, something that comes from true trust in oneself. 

I told all this to Salamander and pointed out that I find it interesting (funny) that the nick-name is the same for each energy.  I talked about my own psychic tendencies.  I asked him if he didn't think it was cool, too, that I seem to have known, in a way, that he was coming without knowing;  that he made some kind of sneaky appearance months before he was conceived.  I told him that that happens to me and I told him then about his dad.  But, before I told him about his dad, I talked about strength.

I told Salamander (and I didn't tell this part of my story today to my therapist, but am telling you now) that I don't think he is going to be my strength, like Sal/Salvador was to me then.  What I do think is that that strength that Salvador pointed me toward will grow in my enduring the actions that must pass before Salamander can take his own first breaths in the world.  Bluntly, the strength that I began to become surer of then will be highly important in the birthing process and that that strength will remain imbued in me for the rest of my (and Salamander's) lives.  And I feel thankful for that. 

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