Tuesday, September 21, 2010

On Turtles

You may be wondering why we named Hudson “the Turtle” when we were pregnant with her. Long before Hudson was born, I had already decided that sea turtles were my spirit animal. Ed and I have both always loved sea creatures of all kinds and we have always been the types who would stop on a dime to save a turtle in the middle of the road. Three years ago (I write that and cannot believe that my beautiful girl was dreamed about, conceived, born and taken from us in three short years—it takes my breath away), Ed and I spent three amazing weeks in Hawaii for our delayed honeymoon/post-bar trip. While snorkeling near Hanalei in Kauai, we encountered several sea turtles (called honu in Hawaii), adults and babies alike. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. My clever husband, unaware (as was I) of a federal law prohibiting people from coming within like 50 feet of sea turtles, pulled some seaweed off a rock and held it out to one of the turtles underwater. The turtle gobbled it up. Well, you can bet I wanted to try that one immediately. I held some seaweed out to the same turtle, and it gobbled it up, too, but grabbed my finger along with it—apparently, I didn’t let go of my end quite fast enough. Those jaws are so powerful that I felt lucky I didn’t lose the tip of my finger with that little stunt. It bled a little, but otherwise I was fine. For the rest of the trip, anytime I saw people anywhere near the turtles, I instantly felt unjustified righteous indignation, wanting those people to get the hell away from them. I steered clear myself for the rest of the trip, too. I felt incredibly protective of them, I guess as a result of my terrible violation of their sanctity. But from then on, sea turtles became my spirit animal.

When we first found out we were pregnant with Hudson, we went in to the OB at around 6 weeks. Even I thought that seemed a little early to do an ultrasound, but the doctor did one anyway. She saw a gestational sac of the right size but couldn’t see anything else in there—she thought I had blighted ovum, which meant I would miscarry soon. She said it could be just that I was not as far along as I thought, though, and that we should come back in a week and see what happened. That entire week, I was beside myself. It was a terrible feeling, walking around just waiting to start bleeding and lose the pregnancy. The next Monday, we went back in and as soon as we saw the screen, even our untrained eyes could see that something was there that hadn’t been visible the week before. And sure enough, it was Hudson, her little heart beating away furiously. Here’s the picture.



So later that week, we were trying to decide what we’d call the little peanut we’d seen on the screen. I remember this all so clearly—we had just walked out of the house and turned down the sidewalk on our way to the metro. Right as we passed our driveway, I turned to Ed and said, “The Turtle!” Our little baby was just a little shy and took its time showing itself to the world, but then came out of its shell at just the right time. And given my pre-existing spiritual connection to sea turtles, the name couldn’t have been more ideal. We planned the nursery around a turtle and sea creature theme, and bought a ridiculously large stuffed sea turtle that became Hudson’s measuring stick for the pictures we took on her month birthday every month for the first year.

Of course, once she was born and started growing, she wasn’t very turtle-like at all, and I easily slipped over into calling her “my little monkey.” At least as far as personality went, it was much more fitting.

As I think about it now, it becomes even clearer how appropriate the name “Turtle” was for Hudson. Once the mama sea turtle has gone ashore and picked the safest spot to lay her eggs, she doesn’t have much more control over her babies’ destiny. They face a terribly dangerous journey back to sea, one that the majority does not survive. As I was thinking about this post today, I read that while the mama is nesting, she sheds huge salty tears. Although the reason is purely biological, the image is incredibly powerful.

I also read the Hawaiian legend of the honu today—believe it or not, it is the story of a mother and daughter. The mother turtle was a magnificent, supposedly supernatural sea turtle with a pure white head. Her egg hatched into beautiful Kauila, a turtle who could turn herself into a girl and thereby keep watch over the children playing by the ocean. Kauila is considered to be the mythical mother of all sea turtles. Although I have no idea about the afterlife, it brings a smile to my face to think of Hudson, the St. Ann’s day care “class concierge,” out there somewhere, watching over all her little friends who are still with us. And it certainly brings me comfort to think of her “mothering” somehow, just like her mama mothered her.

And of course, the turtle’s lesson is to slow down. Enjoy. Breathe deeply. Float. Bask in the sun. Take risks. Carry with you only what you need. This is Hudson’s lesson, too: cherish what is

This is the ring I found several months ago when I was looking for something I could wear that would keep Hudson with me always. It is a mama and a baby honu. I always wear it so that the baby is swimming toward my heart.  If only my sweet girl could have been one of those rare sea turtles that lives for a hundred years.



16 comments:

  1. I was just thinking the other day that I needed to ask you for the story behind the turtle. Very cool! Thank you for sharing. I now have another beautiful association with these incredible animals...

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  2. Mandy, your post is beautiful. The ring is a great way to honor Hudson and keep her close. We have Hudson's picture up on our fridge and I think of you all often!

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  3. Oh, Mandy. Everything you say today rings so true-- under the layers and layers of terrible grief I know that the good that was Hudson still is-- and this story seems another one of the signs saying it is so.

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  4. Just another one of those posts that grabs my heart and makes me think, "Damn. That girl has got it."

    I *know* that can't mean anything to you now. But maybe it will someday. Someday when it is published, someday when you are signing books-- I *know* it doesn't matter now, but maybe someday it will.

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  5. Thank you for sharing this story today, Mandy. It's beautiful.

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  6. This is incredibly beautiful Mandy. I'm so inspired by how mindfully you live your life.

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  7. Everything you have written on this blog has touched my heart deeply, Mandy. But this particular entry is heartfelt and powerful and real and resonates somewhere deep inside me. Thank you for sharing your words and Hudson's story.

    Sarah Chowning

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  8. Mandy,
    I love this ring! It's so sweet and bright. You write beautifully, and Hudson lives through your words. Sending my fondest hopes for peace for you,
    Claire

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  9. Wow, I can't think of a better analogy than the turtle. What a loving and thoughtful post. Thank you once again, Mandy, for sharing with us.
    - Ashley D.

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  10. You know exactly how to grab one's heart with your writing Mandy. Tears sprung to my eyes as I read this post...absolutely beautiful. I love that you wear your ring with the baby turtle swimming towards your heart. Hudson lives there forever.

    This post hits me like it has hit Sarah...this particular post is so powerful and real...hits me in the deepest part of my heart and soul. Thank you so much for sharing with us.

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  11. As usual Shabnam is gets to the comments before I did. Sheesh!! Two things (1) you got bit by a turtle?!! and (2) - more importantly - this is the most beautiful thing I've ever read. It made my heart smile, as bittersweet as it is, I just feel happy having read it. I hope it brings a smile to your heart too knowing you have such a powerful symbol to lean on. - Alex K

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  12. Such a beautiful and touching post. Sending love to you and your precious little turtle and yes, her message is cherish what is. Beautifully written.

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  13. Beautiful. Mandy you are, if I have not said it enough before, a gifted writer. (In addition to all of your other many gifts). Missing your Turtle-Monkey with you today.

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  14. Part of me believes I wanted to see it...part of me believes it's really there. Am I the only one who sees the shape of a turtle in the sonogram picture? It's in the upper right corner, facing left.

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  15. Oh, this post is stunning!

    The image of a mama sea turtle weeping as she lays her eggs knowing that the babies are subjected to their own personal destinies is so powerful. This helps me understand a bit more why I couldn't make my son live. Like, you do your very best and still can't keep your own kid alive, but they are their own people and sometimes I can accept the idea that they have their own destinies. It still sucks though.

    Thank you for sharing this sweet story from a very early part of Hudson's life.

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  16. I love this story, Mandy. I often stop when I see a turtle and think of Hudson. Xoxo.

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