Heather S. Ingemar's Blog, page 7
July 11, 2014
Three Months, or, Is This All I Get?
The third trimester has arrived, and with it, a cloud of melancholy.
Three months. Roughly 11 weeks.
While other mothers-to-be are busy drafting birth plans, laughing their way through baby showers, and rapidly finalizing plans for the time after, I am stopped cold in my tracks by the realization that this is it. That there very well could be nothing more after these few short months are up (and boy is time moving fast now…).
I feel… lost. Simultaneously, I relish and eagerly await every kick and squirm of this beautiful, precious child — and am annoyed at myself for making myself so vulnerable again. Too often it feels like I can’t breathe for the vicious, negative, doubting, fearful thoughts swirling in my head. Pregnancy the second time around has become a love/hate relationship, a trial to be endured. The fact makes me angry; I had so wanted it to be 100% joyful and beautiful and carefree like the first time, and I feel bitterly cheated.
People are overly eager in their camaraderie, however, their words hold absolutely nothing but spooky terror — how is a story of a relative who lost nine full-term children to various birth complications before she got to keep one supposed to comfort me? How is a story of a family who lost children, then the mother died during birth of the one who lived supposed to make me feel better and less worried? (How dare I even go through with this, knowing my husband could be left a widower with no way to care for a baby AND run the farm on his own?) How do tales of the risks, the complications endured, the discomforts and physical trauma experienced during their pregnancy and birth (not to mention all the other things that can go wrong with a child’s development) supposed to make me feel courageous and brave? How are these stories — which highlight all the loss and none of the success — supposed to make me feel like this is even worth it in the long run?
It doesn’t. I know these “helpful Heloises” mean well, but it just makes me feel like a certifiably crazy, flipping idiot in all my irresponsible glory for even wanting to try this again.
Eleven weeks.
Is it truly the beginning of the end as I fear?
I cannot stand this not-knowing.
Tagged: coping, difficulty, fear, life, loss, neonatal death, Pregnancy
July 10, 2014
July 9, 2014
The Bard’s View: An Tir/West War 2014 — part III
Catch part I and part II here.
After dinner, the roving minstrel band returned to entertain us — again with more dancing in the streets! — and they were kind enough to let me join them on a few songs. There was merriment abound, and I was humbled when my Baron presented us each with one of his Baron’s Tokens for performing!
Again I took to wandering, instrument in hand, and brought smiles along the way. As the dusk turned into night, I found myself in the “town square,” being asked to play a few songs with another group of bards who had set up an impromptu concert at the edge of the party. It was my pleasure, as the ladies were familiar with both the “Three Ravens” and “Pastyme with Good Companye,” and together we turned my humble solos back into the lovely multi-part madrigals they should be. :-) After a few more songs, I passed out a few of my Champion’s tokens as thanks and honor of their talent, and bid them my leave. Camp — and more pressingly, sleep — was calling my name.
Sunday arrived (again, bright and chill with MUCH humidity), and I greeted the morning with my customary period Latin hymns. As we began the packing up process to go home, I heard from several people that the morning concert was much enjoyed. :)
And then, we were on the road. Twelve hours later (again, well after midnight), we pulled into our driveway. I spent my final day off snoozing and catching up on the whole unpacking/re-packing for the next event process.
Things I learned?
Camp cooking is not my forte. This was our first event with our stove, and I’m still getting all this figured out. :-P
People love music.
People love pregnant musicians (the best part was when my Queen had to run up and fondle my belly, lol).
People smile when they see their Kingdom Champion out and about.
Laughter is fantastic.
And I think an honest-to-goodness vacation should be mandatory. :)
The next event I attend will be Coronation, and I have quite a few ducks to get in a row between now and then (music to organize, music to learn…). Onward and Upward! :-D
Tagged: bardic, medieval, Rapier, Renaissance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism, travel
July 8, 2014
The Bard’s View: An Tir/West War 2014 — part II
Saturday morning at War arrived bright and chill. I have not spent much time on the coast, and so the high humidity really surprised me. Yet another reason to relish my nylon tent… ;-)
Despite the damp, however, I had slept quite well and felt entirely up to my bardic duties for the day. I grabbed my instrument and donned my cloak, and met the rapier fighters out on the field for Day Two.
My husband versus Don Simone in a pick-up fight between melees.
Later that day after the fighting was done, some of us stripped out of our garb and made our way to the beach.
Though the water was freezing, we had fun splashing about in the waves, and it was worth the trek across the rocky, burning strand to see my husband — who has never been to the beach before — giggling like a little boy as he and our friends tested their mettle against the waves. :-) I brought the guilele and camped out on the sand to strum a bit while we were joined by other friends for some fun and frolic.
Back at evening court I had the privilege of standing once again behind Their Majesties as awards were given out, both by Their Majesties An Tir and Their Majesties of the West Kingdom. Then one of the deputies of the West’s bardic Champion approached the throne to present a song to my Queen, and I managed to accompany her with some spur-of-the-moment strumming. It was awesome. :)
Part III to follow…
Tagged: bardic, medieval, Rapier, Renaissance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism, travel
July 7, 2014
The Bard’s View: An Tir/West War 2014 — part I
My husband and I rarely get actual, honest-to-goodness vacations longer than a weekend. In fact, neither one of us have been on any kind of a long distance trip since before we got married almost a decade ago. So when we had the chance to carpool with some SCA friends of ours to the fabled An Tir/West War in Gold Beach, OR — which just happened to coincide with our wedding anniversary — we said YES! :-)
And the fun began.
We met up with our friends on Thursday afternoon and thus commenced a kamikaze 12-hour drive full of cameraderie, inappropriate humor, laughter, and frequent stops for a certain preggo bard. The gate attendants at the site welcomed our road-weary souls at a whopping 2a.m — a fact that still impresses me. And I have never been so thankful for our non-period “instant tent” as on that night. Even though the nylon and modernity does detract a tad from the medieval ambiance, you really cannot beat having your tent up in less than a minute with your bedding and stuff all stowed and ready for the next morning in less than fifteen minutes — even with the minimal light as given by a hazy moon and a low campfire.
The camps at dusk.
The morning dawned bright and waaaayyy too early, but nothing beats hearing the muster call of the King ringing through camp: “Fighters of An Tir! To Your King! We march to WAR!”
Unfortunately, a 2a.m. arrival is hard on a gal, and I found myself napping in the tent a good portion of the day. But I did manage to make it to a few of my husband’s melees (melee = multiple opponent combat for rapier fighters) and see him having a good time. :-)
Rapier WAR! Just look at the awesomeness!
The evening was filled with music and dancing in the streets, as there was a roving medieval band whom my Baroness/Crown Princess (her elevation is in two weeks) commandeered on their travels to entertain our camp for a while. I snatched up my guilele and did the wandering minstrel thing, too, for a time, until my legs decided they’d had enough. It made me smile when I ran into my Queen and she was excited to see me and the Baby Bard In Progress out and about. And I hovered near the campfires, listening to stories, sharing songs, and meeting new people as I went. It was fabulous. The moon rose over the cedar hills and the heavy ocean mist rolled in, obscuring the world outside until I was a mere bard afoot IN the middle ages.
Pure magic.
Check back for part II…
Tagged: bardic, medieval, Rapier, Renaissance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism, travel
Musical Surf
Just back from an epic SCA/wedding anniversary present/honeymoon weekend. Stories to follow…
Tagged: bardic, beach, guilele, happiness, music, ocean, Renaissance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism, surf
June 30, 2014
Uke Tree
Some fun with my Cordoba tenor uke. My friend, Styrkarr, said it best:
“Don’t laugh. That tree solos like Hendrix.”
Tagged: nature, photography, trees, ukulele
June 26, 2014
Impossible
It seems so impossible.
I am a mere two weeks from the third trimester, the baby is getting pretty darn big (or so it feels by the size of my belly and the strength of his kicks), and some days it feels so incredibly impossible that my husband and I will actually become parents this time around.
Everything feels so much the same; in the wee hours and the moments alone, I can’t help but worry it’s another cruel joke.
My doctor tells me they’ll be doing some extra monitoring here soon, and I wonder (a bit cynically), just what they will be looking for. Michael was a perfect example of a perfect pregnancy — he passed every test with flying colors — right up until he wasn’t. And then no one could tell us why. None of their tests and monitors showed squat.
Just like now: perfect baby, perfect pregnancy.
I feel so guilty and shamed for my inability to truly get excited, as carelessly and unadulterated as the exuberant strangers who pry into my mother-to-be status — but I feel overshadowed by the knowledge that this wonderful, amazing, beautifully precious thing can end right as it is supposed to begin. And it doesn’t help that so much of this journey is so much the same. (Periodically I find myself calling this baby by Michael’s name, and that really bothers me. I know it happens, especially when you’ve had more than one child, but psychologically I need the distinction.) I’m gritting my teeth and moving forward regardless, I am twisting my own arm into making plans because I can’t put them off any longer. And it’s all happening so fast and yet not fast enough, and I am exhausted with wanting to fliptothelastpagealready so I can see how the story ends.
I just pray it isn’t a waste of time.
I pray there is a point, and that it involves not being childless — again — at the end of September.
I pray this little fella keeps kicking and squirming and fighting as hard as he can.
Dear God, help me get through these final weeks.
Tagged: coping, healing, life, loss, neonatal death, Pregnancy
June 24, 2014
Renaissance Guilele
Cordoba GP100 Guilele and Lantern
Fun with lighting and lens flares…
Tagged: art, guilele, home, Light, photography, Renaissance
June 22, 2014
The Bard’s View: Springfest
What can I say about my favorite baronial event that I haven’t already said? There were fantastic people, fun fights, accolades, pageantry, fun bardic at the late-night fire… Everything that really cemented my involvement in the SCA that very first event season to begin with. :-) And then some…
This weekend I got to stand in court with my Baron and Baroness — who also happen to be the new Crown Prince and Princess. I had a blast hanging out with them, and also getting a small taste of the fun it will be to be in their court after Coronation. :-) I did take this opportunity (since it was a “home” event, and a smaller event at that) to test out some ideas I’d had about incorporating more music into the experience. I had brought both my uke and my djembe to the event, and ended up using both during court. It was both fun and interesting to see how a strum to punctuate key moments, or a drum beat to accompany the approach of a member to the throne can add to the ambiance.
I do, however, need to improve my “song at the drop of a hat” skills. I definitely believe that a Bard — and especially a Bard with a rank and station — should be not only willing to entertain on command, but able, as well… Which, unfortunately, is an aspect of my performance skillset I’ve always had issue with. When I am asked to play, I either can’t remember the song I had prepped (aka. “Deer in the headlights”), or I can’t settle on a song because it has to be the “right” song for the tenor of the room. I must work on this. Maybe the answer is to prepare a bunch of short, instrumental pieces (or period pieces in Latin? Foreign language?) to yank out at a moment’s notice — so I don’t have the pressure of trying to decide quickly all the while quizzing myself on whether verse 3 truly fits the atmosphere.
The capstone was the surprise award I received for my involvement in the Arts and Sciences: the Sable Brush Award. This is a baronial-level award given to those who show both skill and commitment to excellence, and I was much honored to be a recipient of it. The artwork on the scroll is stunningly lovely. Svanna Ormr (the artist) is very talented! I am excited to hang it on my wall. :-)
But best of all was simply the weekend off-time. J did some fencing, and I did do some singing at the small bardic fire, but after the intense last couple of weeks we’ve had at home on the farm, it was nice to finally have more than an hour or two to ourselves with few commitments and no stress: a nice and much-needed opportunity to recharge.
Until next time…
Tagged: bardic, medieval, Rapier, Renaissance, sca, Society for Creative Anachronism
