The Buddha of Imperfection
Posted by Goddess Leonie on August 21st, 2009. Filed under: Mama Goddess. 
Hola gorgeous Goddess,
This is one of those really difficult posts to write. In writing this, I am not judging any soul for any choices they have made, or will make. Another person’s journey is theirs, and it is holy and right for them. I just wanted to share my thoughts and my journey and the way my spirit is leading me through some big choices. So I really want to preface this by saying: it’s really okay if you feel totally different from me. However your spirit leads you is just perfect.
Okay. Deep breath. Onto the story.
A few weeks ago, we had our first ante-natal appointment at the doctor’s. We were so “first time” that we didn’t even know it was called an ante-natal appointment.
This is a correct rendition of the appointment booking:
Hi, Doctor’s clinic, this is Nathan.
Umm, hi Nathan. My name’s Leonie. I need to book an appointment.
Sure. What do you want to book for?
Well, I don’t know if it’s a special kind of appointment. I’m up the duff, and haven’t gone to see the doctor yet. Is there a special thing I need to do for this? Is there such a thing as a pregnancy appointment?
Oooh. Good question. I have no idea! Let me check.
(Checks. Comes back again).
Yes! Apparently there’s something called an ante-natal appointment. You need to come in and see the nurses first, and then the doctor.
Huh. Awesome. Ante-natal it is then!
I think we all learned something that day.
So one Wednesday afternoon, me and my hunkie went to the doctor’s. We hung out at the nurse’s station, kids bouncing around us, guys with broken legs looking a bit sorry for themselves, me trying not to hurl on all of them. A sweet nurse came and collected us, and took us to an ancient weighing station where they use weights and slides and scales to work out your weight. And I tried not to hurl as the weights slid back and forth, and found out I was already up 2kg.
She took my blood pressure, and it was something crazy high, and she looked at me with concern on her face. And I shrugged. Then down to get a urine sample, where I managed to pee all over my hand and the cup in the process. Pregnancy is for the elegant.
And she tested my pee, and let me know “it’s all fine”, which we guessed meant that I was still up the duff.
Translation service:
Some darling US goddesses have been asking what “up the duff” means. Especially when I say “up the sacred duff.” “Up the duff” is Australian slang for pregnancy, and when I say “up the sacred duff”, that’s just me being an Aussie hippy.
Then the doctor.
My doctor is sweet and calm. If she was an animal, she would be a mouse. A very friendly helper mouse. We talked about pregnancy stuff for a while. She rechecked my blood pressure, suspecting me to be one of those “high blood pressure when being watched” types, and she was right. Blood pressure perfect.
And then… she asked us The Big Question:
Have you decided yet if you want to do tests to check on birth abnormalities?
I looked at her blankly. What does that mean?
Well, we’d check if the baby had Down’s Syndrome or other birth defects.
And what if it did?
Well, you’d only really do the test if you knew you might want to terminate the pregnancy if the tests were positive.
I was speechless. I looked at Chris, tears brimming in my eyes. His eyes were wide too. We had a conversation with our eyes.
We turned back. Chris said softly No, that won’t be happening.
I explained, tears still brimming over. My brother was born with cerebral palsy and I wouldn’t want him to be any other way. We’ll take whatever Great Spirit gives us. Whatever we are given is perfect.
Our doctor listened softly. That’s okay. I’ll make a note that you don’t get asked about those tests again.
Good. Thank you.
Full on.
We didn’t know we’d have to make such huge decisions so early in our pregnancy.
That night, over the dinner table, we talked about it again.
Hon, did we make the right decision? Are you comfortable with it?
And in that gentle, wise way of his, he said Yes. Whatever we are given is the right thing for us. We will cross whatever bridges that arise when they come up, not try and find out where all the bridges are so we can avoid them.
It might be the perfect choice for other people, especially if they have no idea about living with disabilities, or they don’t feel able to care for them. But you do, and your family does. Your mum is a disability support worker. Your two sisters are disability support workers. We know that things can be okay no matter what.
Whatever we are given is perfect.
And I was emotional and tears broke their river banks, my heart beating strong.
And I was so glad I was with this man who really gets it, already.
It is only now I look back to the date, and realise that doctor’s appointment was exactly thirteen years to the day since my brother had made his rainbow journey onwards.
What I want to talk about
I really want to send out an impassioned plea…
for people to know and understand that children and bodies do not need to be “perfect” in order to be perfect.
My eldest brother was born with cerebral palsy (brain damage) due to birth. My mother was 19 at the time, and had never held a baby before she held my brother. She was incredibly young, had no idea about child-raising, and had a war veteran husband who had his own trauma issues to deal.
My brother wasn’t diagnosed with a disability until he was six. My mama made it her mission to be the most supportive, nurturing, educated mother in the world. She read to him for hours each night (as she did with all of us). She helped his mind and body and soul grow and develop and bloom. She had my other brother, left her husband, and moved to a small country town. She cleaned churches and did whatever she could for her sons to have a healthy, happy life. She met my dad, moved to the farm, continued populating the universe with three more daughters, and continued on with her own self-proclaimed destiny of being the best mother she could be.
And my brother, for all his own personal challenges, was one of the greatest gifts to our family possible. He was funny, and smart, and knew how to do the practical things that the rest of us couldn’t. He was the one who would sit in the front seat of the car, directing my mum through big cities because he was the only one with a sense of direction. He’d get mixed up between the words “left” and “right” so he’d just use his hands to direct. He was the one who got out into the world and did his own thing however he liked. We often joke – he got his driver’s licence on the first go. My other three siblings took two or three attempts. Me? The apparently brainy one who graduated in the top five percent of the state? Oh yes. It took me four.
We all have our gifts and our challenges.
My brother taught us to accept people for their rich, wide and varied differences. He made our family wider, deeper and more loving. He showed us that no matter what you were given, you could do anything you wanted.
By the time he was 25, my brother had more licences to use farm equipment than anyone else in my family. He was assistant manager at an Endeavour Farm – a farm worked by people with disabilities. He had a hot, older, non-disabled girlfriend. He lived with his mates. He was North Queensland’s number one athlete in all events. He joked about wishing he was more disabled so he could enter more sporting events. He was #2 in Australia for high jump.
And he made us laugh. He would drive home on weekends to re-tile my grandmother’s kitchen for her birthday. He was rare, brave, wise, and intensely loving.
He died in a farm accident, fixing farm machinery, doing the thing he loved the most.
He was my brother, and I wouldn’t have wanted him any other way.
He had a disability, and he was perfect, just as he was. Just as we all are.
The best moments of my life
My family would go to sports competitions for disabled people – before he died, and after, to award his Commemoration Award.
If you ever want your life changed, rocked, expanded and made a thousand times better, go to an event like that.
If you want your heart expanded at the beauty and bravery and courage and precious spirit of some of the most amazing souls you will ever meet, meet disabled people.
My mama always likes to tell one story of watching a 50 metre running event that took three minutes to run. When one realised he was losing, he sat down on the field and cried. And everyone who got to the finish line? They turned around, walked back to him, and encouraged him, pulling him to his feet, and finished the race with him. And the crowd cheered louder than it ever had before.
They will teach you that they don’t give a shit what you look like, or what’s wrong with you – as long as you laugh, and have fun, all the better.
The best parts of those competitions?
The extreme-dance-off (thinly veiled as an awards ceremony and dinner) that night. Sure, there were awards to give out, and food to be eaten, but as soon as the music started, there was a mass evacuation to the dance floor where people boogied as much as their bodies could.
The year after my brother died, we went back again to the awards night to award his trophy. And with us was our Japanese exchange student, a sixteen year old named Shintaro, who spoke only a little English. My mama was concerned before we took him – in Japan, disabilities are often kept hidden in families, and aren’t always seen out and about in public. So using a Japanese phrase-book, she tried to communicate that we were going to be going out with 200 disabled people. She wasn’t sure how well it got translated.
That night, we ate dinner in that giant room, still grieving our brother. And the music started, and we sat around still, mopping up tears with napkins, my dad taking it in turns to scruff up our hair with his big hand, sighing as he did so. After a few moments, we realised Shintaro was missing. “Oh no!” said my sweet mama. “He must be feeling really frightened somewhere!” We tried searching outside, and the toilets, worried that Shintaro must have been uncomfortable with the combined wa-bammy of grieving and a room full of differently abled people.
And then we found him.
He was in the middle of the dance floor, hands up in the air, shrieking with laughter, dancing his booty off. Over the music, he yelled “These People! Are Best Dancers! Ever!”
And that’s where Shintaro spent the rest of the night. And so did we.
Embraced in the moving, pulsating beat of humans in all their splendid grief, challenges, joy, bodies, life… dancing and loving together.
My moral of the story?
Our lives don’t have to be perfect in order to be what is needed.
Some of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met, who have changed my life, may not have been ones who passed those pregnancy tests.
But in every single way, they are our truest bodhisattvas, joy teachers and acceptance gurus.
And yes – there will be massive challenges. And huge lessons. And pain and grief. And transformation.
Just as it is with every single child born.
But it will all be worth it.
We will be deeper and richer and wiser and more beautiful because of it.
It’s just perfect, as it is.
We are given whatever is needed.
Today.
I had lunch with one of my dear friends who I adore. And she mentioned something about healthy babies. And I said - you know, I just don’t believe in bad things. Of course I would love for any child to have wonderful health. But if they don’t? It won’t be the end of our world. We will be okay. We’ll receive lessons and blessings from that too. However things happen, it’s perfect.
So that’s what I’m feeling. That no matter what “imperfections” make their way into our life – we will be better for them. We will be okay. And we will be blessed.
Sharing this with a gentle heart, and gentle spirit…
Whatever you choose for your journey is absolutely perfect. I just wanted to offer up my experience that “imperfect” is utterly perfect too.
In the interests of Comments Zen, I ask that any comments back be shared with a compassionate, non-judgemental spirit. We’re all doing the very best we can.
*big exhale*
Big love,
____
August 21st, 2009 at 6:36 pm
Leonie, I loved this post, lots of hugs to you and to your beautiful and perfect baby!
August 21st, 2009 at 7:22 pm
Beautiful post Leonie. And wonderfully written. These decisions are so hard. We chose to have the tests, not because we would have ended the pregnancy if something was wrong but so that we could prepare ourselves and our lives if the baby was going to have problems or need different things or impact our lives in a different way than we were expecting.
Have you read Expecting Adam by Martha Beck? One of my favourite books ever!
August 21st, 2009 at 7:26 pm
Thank-you so much Leonie!
Your words of kindness and wisdom reminded me that some things need to be prioritised, in whatever form you dwell.
Lots of love, Meg
August 21st, 2009 at 7:41 pm
Beautiful! Thank you! <3
August 21st, 2009 at 8:09 pm
Absolutely heart-wrenching and beautiful post. I honor you for being so open, so receptive, and so honest. You are already such an amazing mama!
August 21st, 2009 at 8:22 pm
Ah B1, you had me in tears with your story. It still seems like yesterday that we heard the news of Clinton’s accident. He was very special.
You are right though, it is everyone’s choice. We weren’t sure what we would do if we had those tests done, but we heard our peanuts heart beat for the first time and we decided not to do the tests. We just couldn’t. Peanut was special to us already.
I am sure everything will go well for you and your own Peanut.
Your stories always bring back lots of good memories.
hugs and kisses
B2!
August 21st, 2009 at 8:31 pm
Wow, Leonie. Just. Wow. That was beautiful (just like you
).
August 21st, 2009 at 8:42 pm
Thanks for sharing this, goddess-girl – you are a brave and amazing lady o’ awesomeness and I heart you!
August 21st, 2009 at 9:06 pm
Divergent opinions and paths don’t have anything at all to do with the beauty and power of this post. It is honest and emotional and amazing, like you.
I see how you came out to be so lovely and loving … your whole family is really just as special as you are.
You so touched my heart. Your perfect-as-is baby is already a lucky little soul.
August 21st, 2009 at 9:20 pm
Ah, sweet Goddess Leonie, you are such a joy and inspiration! Thank you for sharing your story. It is true that we must all travel our own roads (trying never to judge a man until we have walked a mile in his moccasins) and learn life’s lessons along the way.
I am a prescriber to the notion that what’s right for me may not be right for my neighbor. I do not have to agree with another’s choices, but I do try to be accepting of them. I believe that we should, for the most part, all live and let live.
I don’t know what I would have done in your situation, but I am touched by how you and your love handled it. So long as you are both okay with your decision, that’s all that matters. Follow your heart and don’t second guess yourselves.
I have been pregnant 8 times, having miscarried 6 of them, so I know about the celestial highs and the bitter lows of pregnancy. I found out after the fact that one of those losses was due to a chromosomal disorder. I used to wonder what my husband and I would have decided to do about that pregnancy if we had been forewarned with the knowledge of its “abnormality”.
While I wish that terminations weren’t part of the equation, I respect a woman’s right to make a choice that is right for her situation. I commend each and every woman who has to face it. Either way, there will be challenges to face; an integral part of life. We need to remember that it is how we change and grow through our experiences that is the fabric of our individual lives.
So, sit back and enjoy this miraculous time in your life.Your sweet baby is perfectly made and will be born into a home filled with love and joy. What a wonderful way to start a life!!
Sending you peace, love and a big squeezy hug from halfway ’round the world,
Grace
August 21st, 2009 at 9:35 pm
Thank you gorgeous Goddess Leonie for sharing this beautiful story – you speak from your heart and soul and your words are indeed most awesome.
Once again I’m thinking what a wise baby soul to have chosen to be with you, Chris & your family!
Love to you all, Kim xx
August 21st, 2009 at 10:26 pm
Thank you for sharing and waking me to a beautiful enlightened day.
Om Shanti
August 21st, 2009 at 11:04 pm
Leonie,
So beautiful you got me crying first thing in the morning.
I applaud your big, beautiful, all-encompassing humanity. What would we do without imperfection!? It resides, in one form or another, in each of us, and I like think it is the very reason we seek God and Goddess. Without that, we would mistake ourselves for the center of the universe, wouldn’t we? Without that, we would mistake ourselves for totally independent. How sad.
Thank you. Again, that little soul has chosen well.
August 22nd, 2009 at 12:17 am
I am a Goddess approaching Crone and still learning from life and searching for the ultimate goodness of our destinies. Your wise-ness is beyond your years and your words are joyful salve for my soul. How utterly fabulous. I am in gratitude.
August 22nd, 2009 at 12:36 am
There are no imperfections. Whatever is, is perfect because it does not exist as anything else.
A broken dish is perfectly broken.
August 22nd, 2009 at 1:01 am
You’re so brave. You’re so wonderful.
I admire you.
At 19, pregnant unexpectedly, I also chose not to have the tests. I felt the same way. I had amazing pressure from my family to have the tests (and the implied pressure behind it, to terminate the pregnancy if anything was wrong; I was “too young” to deal with it). But I knew in my heart, as you do, that anything I got was perfect.
And he was. And he is, 11 years later. And he will be, for all of his life, no matter what.
No mistakes, no regrets.
Thank you.
<3
August 22nd, 2009 at 1:01 am
I made the same decision almost 17 years ago now and would make it again today. Some of life’s biggest blessings come from imperfection and struggle. Besides, who gets to say what “perfect” is anyway?
Bless you and your family.
August 22nd, 2009 at 1:21 am
Thank you for writing this. A good cry in the morning is always appreciated. To be perfectly honest, it’s not something that consciously comes up in day to day conversation, so I’ve heard about the questions doctors ask but never thought about what my response would be and after reading your post I will most definitely respond with a big ” No thank you”. Thank you again for this post.
August 22nd, 2009 at 2:10 am
Such a wonderful, true, and perfect post. Penny and I can remember being faced with that question ourselves, and being just as thrown for a loop as you were.
There’s disability in our family too (isn’t there in everyone’s?) and we too knew how much we prize and value those individuals as much as (more than, actually, in some ways!) anyone else we could have the honor of being related to.
Oh, and “up the duff” is just marvelous. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do on my Aussie slang… guess I’ll start with the Aussie Hippy dialect and work outward from there.
August 22nd, 2009 at 2:36 am
Leoni, you had me in tears with your post. GOOD tears. Thank you so much for sharing
This story is a great gift to me.
All the best to yu and family.
August 22nd, 2009 at 2:44 am
Dear Mama Goddess,
My husband and I didn’t take any test to detect possible disabilities, not for the first pregnancy neither the second.
Disability scares people who are not familiar with, but like Chris and you we thought “no matter how healthy the Universe gives us our baby, we’ll deal with it”.
I lived the first 8 years of my life surrounded by mentally disabled people (I’m not sure it is said like that in english ! hope you understand what I mean). It was the best year of my life, so much joy and love and good time (my mum was the assistant director of what we call in France a C.A.T., a center where disabled person can work and sometimes live).
Of course, sometimes the disability is very… heavy and we may think “this person would be happier if she/he was never born” but we just don’t know
Thank you for your words, for sharing your family story with us.
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:08 am
Oh, sweetie, what a beautiful, gorgeous post. So much love, for your brother, your sweetheart, your baby, your own perfectly imperfect self.
One of my dearest friends has a daughter who has cerebral palsy. She’s also severely autistic and doesn’t speak. And she’s a blessing to every one of us who has the privilege of knowing her.
Goddesses come in many shapes and sizes. Gods too.
Much love to you and all those you love,
Hiro
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:23 am
Sweet, wise Leonie-
I can barely see to type. The screen is blurry and my face is wet with tears.
This post is big, like the kind of thing I’d call medicine teaching big. And it’s filled with so much wisdom and truth and beauty and love. Just like you.
When I was in high school, I met a couple of amazing kids with Down syndrome. Every morning I’d sit outside the art room, waiting for class. And they started hanging out with me.
And every single day they’d give me great big hugs. Both of them. Together. At the same time.
I was at a hard place in my life. And these kids accepted me totally and completely. And their hugs were fabulous. I came to look forward to them, because I could feel a love like the sun coming through them.
This post of yours? One of my favorites ever.
Thanks for sharing this. And thanks for being you.
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:24 am
This post made me cry for three reasons:
1. In my first pregancy, the doctor pushed me quite hard to take the test, and being new and vulnerable, I took it despite my misgivings. But after that experience, I vehemently declined it in all three pregnancies that followed, even though I got pressure in the last 2 because I was in the age bracket where the concerns increase (35+).
2. I had a stillborn baby, and though it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever lived through, it was also one of the most beautiful. Matthew changed my life, even though he only lived inside me. Every baby has the potential to change lives.
3. My dad was killed in a farm accident and I still miss him horribly.
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:27 am
girl, you are one wonderful human being. and an amazing story teller.
i am here choking on tears of happiness that there are people like you in the world.
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:34 am
In my experiences living in the US I have found how folks judge what is perfect and what is not. I choose to surround myself with folks who are each perfect in their own way! And love each other just as we are.
My grandmother’s sister had a child who was diagnosed with mental retardation. The nurse told her to find an institution for him. Alice picked up her son, marched out of the hospital and never regretted her decision. To this day my cousin is one of the funniest people I know!
Blessings to you and yours on this awesome journey. Can’t wait to hear about the developments!
Peace,
Azure
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:34 am
Dearest Leonie
This is such a special post. Thank you so much for having the courage to share it with the world.
I well remember having the same conversation in each of my 1st ante-natal appointments and making exactly the same decision as you did, and for the same reason. My reasoning was that the baby that blesses our family with its presence will be welcomed and loved as the special, beautiful, unique soul that they are.
As it is we had 3 children born without disabilities, but I know that we wouldn’t have loved them any less if they had been.
Incidentally, as I was reading I was reminded of a post that I wrote a while back about finding beauty in the imperfect: thought you might enjoy it: http://tinyurl.com/a9lk7h
Wishing you a wonderful pregnancy
Amy
xx
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:38 am
Oh Leonie,
Smeary screen tears and more tears. So touched by your story.
Wishing you so, so well
August 22nd, 2009 at 3:50 am
You are so amazing, Leonie. Thanks for sharing your beautiful self with the world. xoxox
August 22nd, 2009 at 4:11 am
Leonie,
I don’t think I’ve cried this much at work… ever. Again and always you amaze me. Thank-you for this post. Big, big hugs.
August 22nd, 2009 at 4:12 am
Thank you for sharing your heart, the story of your beautiful brother, and the gorgeous spirit of your family. You are a sparkly soul.
August 22nd, 2009 at 4:24 am
Absolutely gorgeous Leonie. I’m so glad there are women like you who will act from their hearts. I’ve not been at that crossroads, but I would be with you if I was there. so many important messages here. I always love it when you write about your brother.
August 22nd, 2009 at 4:32 am
Your post is so beautifull, Leonie. We all can hear your heartfelt honesty and love and thoughtfulness and beauty shining through. As a fellow mama, I can so appreciate the journey you are on. Thank you for sharing your kind thoughts with the world.
Fierce hugs, Tisha
August 22nd, 2009 at 4:34 am
Leonie*
i read this & wept in heart*full understanding. i loved reading about your older brother. thank you for sharing the whole of this. blessings to you & your growing family.
xo,
gem
August 22nd, 2009 at 5:43 am
I love your story. It’s beautiful.
August 22nd, 2009 at 6:51 am
The first time took us by surprise too. We didn´t know such things were done but we didn´t even had to ask each other. We said no at the same time when the nurse finished her question.
August 22nd, 2009 at 8:45 am
*some huge hugs for Heather* and I thank you all for sharing all these thoughts. Thank you.
August 22nd, 2009 at 8:55 am
Thank for sharing the story about your brother. It is true all babies and people are perfect in their own way.
August 22nd, 2009 at 9:01 am
What a beautiful story and tribute to your Mama and to your brother. When we were asked about that test early in our pregnancy we decided on the spot to turn the test down. Our reasoning was that if the test came back positive we would spend the entire pregnancy worried and scared. (also we were informed of the high rate of false positives in the test and decided that to go through all that stress and worry and fear with the possibility of it being unfounded was useless)
We knew that no matter if our peanut was hale and healthy or no we would deal with either when she came to us. I think your phrase “and he was perfect, just as he was. Just as we all are.” is something that any Mother knows and feels instinctively.
I can’t imagine that those who choose another path in this circumstance do so easily.
Thank you for sharing
August 22nd, 2009 at 12:20 pm
dearest leonie,
this is BEAUTIFUL. thank you so much for sharing your story and your amazing spirit. the world is brighter thanks to you.
xoxo
August 22nd, 2009 at 1:09 pm
Leonie,
My eyes are leaking.
This is such a beautiful, wonderful post. I feel such awe and peace and love reading it. Thank you so much for writing it.
August 22nd, 2009 at 1:11 pm
Oh Leonie! I was crying nourishing tears reading this. My mother was well into her 40s when she had me, and the docs tried to convince her to have those tests. She was going to have me no matter what, though, so the tests didn’t matter. I’m sure she was relieved I was “healthy” and yet it is such a comfort knowing how much my mother loved me even before meeting me.
Many blessings to you and yours, and thanks for sharing the story of your brother, too. He sounds like he was magic.
August 22nd, 2009 at 9:48 pm
This brought tears to my eyes, Leonie. I chose not to have the tests, despite the fact that I have medical problems that may well be hereditary. I myself have bones missing from my neck and more that are deformed and fused together, and it was thought, when I was born, that I would never walk. However, I knew that, whatever problems a child of mine was born with, we would get through it and make the best life possible.
I am totally pro-choice in all things, including this, and respect everyones right to do what it best for them. I am sure you have made the right choice for yourself, your hubbie and your baby, and that the future will be wonderful – whatever it holds
Also, thank you so much for sharing your family story. Your brother sounds like a wonderful person and the world was blessed to have him in it. Not one of us is ‘perfect’ but we all have something beautiful and unique to add to the world.
Much love xx
August 23rd, 2009 at 7:20 am
Oh my Gosh Leonie, I literally had tears in my eyes. This was just the most beautiful, open and kind hearted thing I’ve read. I stand by you whole heartedly, and love you for everything that you share. Thank you for opening my eyes in more than one way.
Love,
Nathalie
August 23rd, 2009 at 7:26 am
aww leonie. that was sooooooo beautiful. i cant express enough how wonderful and amazing you are. i truly feel this is my sanctuary when i come here…. thankyou so much for sharing everything and being so honest, its so beautiful…..xxx
August 23rd, 2009 at 8:21 am
Leonie,
Congratulations!!! on your pregnancy. And welcome to the interesting and often insensitive world of antenatal care…I wish you well on the incredible journey of pregnancy and birth.
Your post is one of the most powerful I have ever read – thank you. You are going to be incredible parents.
August 23rd, 2009 at 8:54 am
Oh sweetie,
Me too! I’m also crying my eyes out!! This is such a wonderfully beautiful and amazing post. So full of deep hearted wisdom and open hearted tenderness. Your growing baby must be doing cartwheels in your luscious belly right now, knowing that they are going to be born into a family of so much exquisite over the top LOVE!!
I adore you more and more, every single day…
Chris
August 23rd, 2009 at 5:20 pm
Beautiful souls…
I am so incredibly touched to meet you all here… in this space… you have touched my heart, over and over. I’ve cried from your words… especially your own stories… and having Manda here who knew my brother….
I’m so grateful to share with you all in this space.
Thank you for being the sunbeams that make this space shine brighter and brighter.
We really are the most perfectly imperfect souls we’ve been waiting for.
big love, gentleness, hugs,
Leonie
xoxoxoxo
August 25th, 2009 at 8:03 am
This is amazing.
And I am speechless.
Weeping as I read.
Thank you for being you ~ and sharing your *incredible* self with us!
August 25th, 2009 at 11:02 am
That was truly a beautiful story, Leonie, and your brother was a beautiful man who taught you a profound truth by his very being. I was so touched by you and your honey’s understanding of each other. All I could think was that your baby is going to be one blessed soul in every way, especially with you as her mama. Much love on your amazing journey ahead!
August 25th, 2009 at 9:43 pm
Thank you , dear one, for this beautiful story. I always seem to end up crying reading your posts. Not to mention watching your videos. Seems like I am not alone. I’m happy to be part of this teary goddess circle. Love and hugs, Yollana
August 26th, 2009 at 1:48 am
Leonie, sweetheart, that was just beautiful. I echo everyone’s love and awe at you. I love when you write about your brother. It helps me deal with my own grief. I love you and I send you muchos blessings to you, Chris, and bebe.
August 26th, 2009 at 1:57 am
Dear Leonie,
you touched my heart with this wunderfull story of your brother en your perfect baby that’s lovingly growing within you. Your also make me feel good: it’s is just perfect to have no job, but ‘only’ trying to be the best mum I am. Thank you for your wise words. All the love for you and your beloved ones,
from the Netherlands, Karin
August 26th, 2009 at 5:12 am
first of all congrats!! this post was very, very moving. i wish the best for you and your little family
August 26th, 2009 at 2:22 pm
Leonie – thanks for this. it made me cry and I always appreciate that.
August 27th, 2009 at 4:17 am
I simply adore you!!! XOXO ~Elizabeth <3
August 30th, 2009 at 10:34 pm
Hey Leonie,
Thankyou for sharing – I hope you don’t mind if I share, too.
We’ve had some of the tests, but not because we would have considered termination. Only because I want to know as much as I can about my new child!
The first test we were offered was a nuschal transparency scan, which is just an early ultrasound – I got to see the baby wave and wriggle, way before I could feel it!
October 9th, 2009 at 1:11 pm
My wonderful Goddess Leonie:
I’ve been following you on Twitter for a short while and have been reading some of your wonderful blog posts. This one really struck a chord with me on so many levels.
My 13 y/o stepson, Chad, is autistic. He is such a hoot and makes me laugh like you wouldn’t believe. He’s kind and loving, dances and hugs like crazy, tickles and loves to be tickled. He also throws fits, hits himself, screetches like an owl, thrashes out when frustrated…but none of that is too much to handle when you see the smile on that precious childs face or when he hugs you for no reason. I would not change him for anything…how could you ever want to NOT have a Chad in your life?
As far as choices go, I’ve been faced with my own choices in the past. Not exactly the same choice as yours but something along those same lines. I was brutally raped in 1986…two months later I found out I was pregnant. I had no idea who the father was…my husband of 10 months or my rapist. Should I abort or not? I had a choice and I made the choice that was right for ME…might not be the right choice for anyone else, but it was the right one for me. And my beautiful daughter, with kinky-curly hair and dark olive skin that is many, many shades darker than my husbands or mine, has been the light of my life.
Thank you for sharing your story and the story you were faced with…it made me think of some things I haven’t thought of in a long time. We never need to forget where we’ve come from, do we?
Much Peace & Love,
~Barb~
January 30th, 2010 at 8:31 am
Goddess Leonie,
I was reading SARK’s Transformation Soup today after a morning of quiet and stillness. I realized during my quiet and reading that I was exhausted from feeling like I wasn’t doing enough or as much as other people. Then I remembered that I wanted to read this post – I had filed it away in my mind not even knowing what it was about. Imagine my delight that it’s about disabilities! As a disabled woman, this touches me deeply also. Thank you for posting this and thanks to your family for being so supportive of the disability community!!
February 1st, 2010 at 12:24 pm
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February 2nd, 2010 at 12:34 am
yeah….the screen is all blurry and my eyes are full of tears…..this is just so beautiful leonie i cant explain………………………xx