Poetry & Words – Page 23 – The Oaxacaborn Blog

Oaxacaborn - baby Aveline Alenka - black and white baby portait - close up my precious, precious girl,

i love you so much it hurts. you’re sleeping now, in the next room, and every once in a while i run back into the room just to look at you. that hasn’t gotten old yet, and here you are 10 weeks old this wednesday. you changed everything when you were born, lovie, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

you’re pure joy. i love the way you smile so widely your eyes are nearly closed. i love how you look so intently at daddy when he’s talking to you, and love how you imitate the sounds with your tiny little painted-on cherub lips. you bring us so much happiness, baby girl. we prayed for you, love, we definitely did. and God answered our prayers and gave you to us. you’re our aveline alenka, our radiant, full-of-light, wished for and longed for child. that’s what your name means, you know.

you are a beautiful miracle. i can’t believe how fast you’re growing. it seems like just yesterday you were impossibly tiny, your hands hidden in the sleeves of the newborn shirts and your waist too tiny for newborn pants. and now here you are, reaching for the ruffled hem of your sundress and putting it in your mouth.

speaking of the sun — you’re not so much a fan of that, yet. you scrunch up your face and arch your back when the sun hits your little face. but the wind, oh, you are mama’s girl for sure in the wind. you happily let it wash over you, looking out into the world with those gorgeous eyes of yours.

and now, baby, your tiny cries from the next room are calling to me. i’m coming to get you, baby. coming to hold you, and change your diaper, and feed you, and love you always&forever.

always&forever, baby. always&forever.

love,

your mama.

Poetry & Words, Travel/Moving

POETRY & WORDS :: our love story: how long distance became i do

March 11, 2011September 13, 2013 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

Some of you will recognize the following story — I penned it just months after 26PM and i were married in 2008, and published it on my old blog (Remember Xanga? That’s how we all rolled back in the day, ha ha!)

Anyway, I rediscovered these words again today, and realized that I never shared our love story on this blog.

So, here it is. The story of a love that spanned the distance between the Atlantic and Pacific. The story of two people who could not remain apart. The story of our lives.

once upon a time, he saw her. after church, playing football in the grass. she was barefoot. this is his first memory, but she did not notice.

she does not remember, except for the time he could not understand something she said and then she refused to speak.

[we were both sixteen. –yellowcard, ocean avenue]

well, seventeen, actually.

[they had lots of common friends. –dennison witmer, 24 turned 25]

the same church. the same ski slopes. the same junior college.

but they did not notice.

[you never even see me. you look right through me. –coldplay, shiver]

she remembers how he flew before he could drive, and how he drew color and life bursting from grey rubble. she told her mother he thought about things, deeply.

he did not know he was present in her mind.

she did not know she thought of him, even when she did.

Continue reading “POETRY & WORDS :: our love story: how long distance became i do” →

Life in Photos, Poetry & Words

my new florida views – palm trees and a smiling baby

March 4, 2011March 21, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

my gorgeous view this morning–er, afternoon. east coast time, you are still confusing me! little miss aveline just loves her sheepskin rug from IKEA. (the RENS is shown; it’s fabulous quality for just under $25.)

The many faces of baby Aveline - on an IKEA RENS sheepskin rug

and speaking of views, how amazing is this ridge of palm trees?! we can see it from the master bedroom as well as through the windows on one side of the great room. the palm trees are transformed into stunning silhouettes each evening, as the sun sets directly behind them.

ridge of palm trees in Orlando

i’d share some photos of the apartment’s interior, but stacks of boxes still abound at every turn. but may i just pause to mention that i now have a dishwasher? and indoor laundry?

i’m way too excited about these ~~appliances~~ luxuries.

Poetry & Words

a different kind of valentine’s day

February 14, 2011March 21, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

this morning dawned grey and brooding, with thick clouds drawn tightly over the sky, pulling down wind and rain through the tousled treetops.

it had all the ingredients that could have made for a really bad day. monday. exhaustion. valentine’s day. a night of restless, fitful sleep on an air mattress on my in-laws’ living room floor. a fussy baby. all our stuff on a moving truck. husband putting the last few items in his suitcase to leave for florida. me staying behind for two more weeks.

yes, i cried.

but then, my baby smiled at me.

and my husband brought me lilies and roses while i was still in bed.

and God gave me peace.

wonderful, deep, incredible peace.

that doesn’t mean i didn’t cry any more after that. after all, it’s still overwhelming. i still physically don’t feel good, and i am still ridiculously tired (although my recent diagnosis of anemia explains that. hello, iron supplements!)

but i am at peace. i am content. happy. excited about this next chapter. excited to see what God has in store. madly in love with my husband and with my miraculous daughter and with this wild and beautiful life.

Poetry & Words

stacks of boxes, a new iPod, and trust

February 11, 2011March 22, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

it’s late. i’m too fatigued to have many thoughts. my fingers tap softly across the screen of this brand new iPod. my eyes, tired and scratchy, narrow to read these words. i sit on the black leather couch, surrounded by towering stacks of brown boxes. each is taped and labeled, and each holds a little piece of the personality that made these four walls our own.

i sigh.

aveline lays across my lap, peaceful and trusting, calm in the face of looming change. she is not fretting about where she will live next or how she will manage the next few weeks. she does not wonder if my arms will hold her up. she just IS.

and you know? i want to trust like that.

pure, peaceful, natural trust.

Poetry & Words

we’re moving again

February 3, 2011March 21, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

the whole United States, it seems, is being swallowed up by ever-falling snow. but here in my favourite comfortable corner of the world–NorCal–it’s warm, sunny, and bright. i could stay here forever, you know. i love it here. the high skies, the dry air, the perfectly majestic california live oaks, the way the sunsets dance purple and yellow, casting long shadows across the white Sierra Nevada peaks…

i could stay here forever.

but i can’t.

you know that pillar of fire? it’s moving now, and we have to follow. it’s been parked here for almost a year and a half (a veritable record, as far as the last 11 years of my life are concerned), but now it’s time to move on.

as hard as this is, i am at peace about it.

Josiah and i have been praying–for the past year and a half–for full-time work. hundreds of resumes later, it was starting to feel like a drought. there was still daily bread and there were still new mercies, but there were no open doors.

and then suddenly, this.

not even two weeks after Aveline was born, Josiah received a job offer from a company he used to work for. it was sudden job offer, with an even more sudden start date.

Aveline Alenka - 2 weeks old - handmade crochet hat - cotton gauze baby swaddling cloth by Living Textiles

and that, my friends, is how this grand adventure called 2011 begins. we’re packing up the house now…wrapping up the insane amount of loose ends…trying to get sleep in between stacking boxes and waking up in the middle of the night with our tiny little daughter.

and in less than two weeks, we’ll be on the road to Orlando with a wee baby and a dog in tow.

as with countless other life events, i’m once again singing along with rich mullins. his music is the soundtrack to my soul. “sometimes i think of Abraham, and how one star he saw was lit for me. he was a stranger in this land, and i am that no less than he.” -rich mullins

so call us crazy. sojourners. gypsies. we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Life in Photos, Poetry & Words

yes, i’m overdue…but it’s citrus season in california! (and other blessings)

January 17, 2011March 21, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

whew. what a long week it has been. today’s extension of the weekend was a welcome, welcome thing.

tuesday i had an exam, thursday had an ultrasound to check amniotic fluid levels, and then on saturday we went on a precautionary outing to labor & delivery. after another exam, monitoring, and a non-stress test, they sent me home. and tomorrow? a doctor appointment and yet another non-stress test.

yes, i’m officially 41 weeks today. you wouldn’t believe how many advice-filled emails, facebook messages and texts i’ve received lately! (whewwww. just whew. take a deep breath and just walk away from the computer and the cell phone, gina.)

but on the glorious side of things? i finally have a working washing machine. my dear friend shanley is back in town. the bathroom faucet no longer drips incessantly. caffeinated soy lattes and caffeinated dark chocolate mochas are in my future. two friends’ baby showers are coming up, and that means a ton of crocheting with soft baby yarns. and oh yes, it’s citrus season here in northern california. there’s nothing better than a practically unlimited supply of lemons. swoon!

and the best thing? this is The Week, folks! she’ll be here by the end of the week. =D

Handmade, Little Style, Poetry & Words

thoughts on a cloudy and tired january morning [& a whimsical embroidered onesie]

January 7, 2011March 21, 2014 Gina @ Oaxacaborn

it’s cloudy this morning. a touch of grey fog, quiet and calm. the dampness clings to the long slender shoots of grass and wraps around the tired oak fingers. the earth seems to sigh, and the clouds heavily roll along, lumbering, as if even they are too tired to take another celestial step. the occasional hum of a passing vehicle sounds far away and distant, the sound too weary to cut through the morning grey. inside, the dog rests his furry head between his paws, his eyes half open and lifted, watching me as a he fights a losing battle to stay awake.

me? in keepin’ with the situation, i try to eat my cereal with a fork. i feel clumsy, sleepy, already ready for a nap.

i wonder how much longer it will be before baby girl makes her debut. today we’re just three days away from 40 weeks.