It has not been quite 2 years since I quit my job, a full time benefited job, to stay at home with a child that needed me. I did it without too much planning or thought; my son had been hurt and traumatized by a trusted adult and he needed saving. So I stepped out in trust and faith in this universe; and in a God I believe loves me and my son. I was a single mom, and yet I quit my job - to save my son.
The unique irony in all of it is that I was the one who needed saving just as much as he did, although I didn't quite know it in the moment. The universe however, in all its wild, weird, and wonderfully wise ways, allowed my son and I to save each other. We were also held, and held well, in the safety of love, friendship, connection, and salvation...and of course a little vacation in Hawaii!
We healed and grew. There were so many lessons about balance and about finding the calm in the center of chaos, and about perseverance and personal strength. Lessons of trust, and in leaning on others, about acceptance and forgiveness and adapting. Some lessons weren't so much fun to learn and I really hoped I wouldn't need a remedial lesson but God and the universe have decided otherwise.
During the first 12 months after I left my job, I pieced together a variety of opportunities for income. Private pay postpartum doula work, some nanny work, and per diem secretary work. I eventually took a regular secretarial position not quite 6 months ago and it's been a quiet relief; but things are turning out a little different than I had planned. Of course!
Working 4 to 5 nights a week leaves very little time to establish regular routines for meals, family time, and working through boundaries and setting traditions into play. Nor does it leave any time to cultivate my own self, something which I've begun to realize is a building block for creating a safe, strong, home. The job has been good for income, and has kept my little man out of childcare and allowed him to stay home with either his big sister or me, but it has become clear that another change is needed for the well being of all of us.
I find myself starting all over again, again. I have to step out again, in complete trust and faith, as I make another major change. My son needs me to be at home with him...again. This time, it's not just him though, it's my older daughter too. I have two children needing me home more, needing me home in the evenings for hot meals and dinner table connections, for story time and family game night. They need me home much more than we need the comfort of extra income. Truth be told? I'm pretty sure the kids I have that no longer live at home might still benefit from me being more available too. This might be saving an entire family all at once. So? So I will be leaving my current job and taking a new one that is less of everything: less income, less hours, less security, less flexibility...but allows me more time at home with the most important people in my life.
It's scary now. It was scary then, almost 2 years ago, but so urgent that fear didn't have a place. However, fear has become a close companion of mine these days. The past 6 months brought me some harder lessons about that and I got a little lost in the darkness of it. Now it feels like fear is consuming my decision making process across all areas of my life. To step outside of the safe place I've managed to create, even when it doesn't feel as safe as it used to, feels dangerous. It is a known safety, such as it is. But now? Now I have to embrace fear all over again, and trust in the unconfirmed intangibles. I am often full of fear and there is little room for trust it seems.
Fear is a very useful tool - it keeps us from repeating mistakes or getting into danger. I've come to put a lot of trust in fear. Then a friend told me that maybe it was time for me to, "consider being open to the possibility that fear doesn't have a place here".
I really dislike it when God and the universe use my friends against me! But I can see that this is a truth I need to own right now. Maybe my fear is not helpful at this time, in this place, and in so many ways. Perhaps my placing my trust in fear is the wrong place for it. I think, next to the lessons of balance that I've been privileged to learn, this lesson of not letting fear take footing where it is not needed is one of the grandest lessons of all.
So now I begin, again. With more balance, and a desire to remain open to possibility, and to get real about the validity of fear.
Hang on. This? This is going to be a wild ride!
May 18, 2018
April 1, 2018
Little Glimpses
Right after the new year I went through a challenging time. In a desperate moment, I reached out to my adult kids for connection. My Boston residing 22 year old son came with his sweetheart, no hesitation and no questions asked. They came on the train and stayed over night and we ate, we drank, we talked, we played games, and their compassionate and loving presence generally helped to ground me. My west coast residing 28 year old daughter talked me through weeks of endless nights over the phone, until she was on spring break from school and could fly out and visit. My 19 year old home-girl doled out hugs and amazingly sarcastic one-liners that made me smile even when I thought I never would again. My children became the solid foundation that anchored me and yet they gave me wings all at the same time. It was like parenting came full circle for a time. I saw that I did a pretty good job raising such caring people who know how to show up when showing up matters.
I lay in my bed (heated mattress pad, flannel sheets, down comforter, hello New England spring!) and I listen to the wild giggles pouring from the kitchen. It is music to me, a symphony filling every corner of this apartment with LIFE. My oldest daughter is home for the first time in two and a half years. 2.5. Yes, TWO years and SIX months; probably longer. I stopped counting after awhile... I saw her 15 months ago but it wasn't at 'home' and it was different. Now she is home. Just ask her little sister, or either of her little brothers - this is HOME with Chickadee here, bossing us all around and setting the rules and the limits. It is the BEST thing ever. The giggles of my girls together in the kitchen wash over me and fill up all the empty parts of my heart.
Now she's gone again, back to HER home which is 3000 miles away from my hug. The laughter of all my children together still lingers in my heart and fills it full.
It is Easter. I have celebrated the resurrection of Christ in so many different ways over the past years. I have celebrated with large family gatherings including cousins and board games; joined with friends from church in a pot luck style; eaten with just two of my children, lonely, in a restaurant... this year I even celebrated by being completely alone. It wasn't a bad thing - it was contemplative and restorative. I think that it might be one of the best ways I've spent the holiday, in all its intention, in my adult life. I spent it this way by choice though and maybe its that fact which made this day one of peace for me. It is a kind of peace I've been needing to feel.
The more holidays that I spend as a single adult, the more comfortable I am making choices that best suit ME. It is more in my nature to make everyone else feel happy, especially when I was actively parenting small children and trying to build traditions and memories, but as my children have become adults with all their own wants and choices, it seems easier now to place my own desires ahead of theirs. It makes me a different kind of parent for Griffin; and a better one I think. He'll see a more independent and strong woman as his mom and for him? For him I think that will ultimately serve his needs best as well. Funny how that works out in the end...by putting myself first, I become a better mom for this specific child at this specific time. Balance. Ah, there it is again.
It is spring, in spite of the frigid 30 degree weather and remnants of snow in patches on the ground. We move forward into the light, again, my little sidekick brown eyed boy and I. We move forward and I watch as my adult children do the same. We aren't together always, but we aren't truly alone either. We hold hands and we fall down and we help each other up and we find balance together; sometimes anchoring each other, and sometimes encouraging flight. The light is longer, brighter, and warmer as every day passes. It's good to know the dark days are fading away.
I lay in my bed (heated mattress pad, flannel sheets, down comforter, hello New England spring!) and I listen to the wild giggles pouring from the kitchen. It is music to me, a symphony filling every corner of this apartment with LIFE. My oldest daughter is home for the first time in two and a half years. 2.5. Yes, TWO years and SIX months; probably longer. I stopped counting after awhile... I saw her 15 months ago but it wasn't at 'home' and it was different. Now she is home. Just ask her little sister, or either of her little brothers - this is HOME with Chickadee here, bossing us all around and setting the rules and the limits. It is the BEST thing ever. The giggles of my girls together in the kitchen wash over me and fill up all the empty parts of my heart.
Now she's gone again, back to HER home which is 3000 miles away from my hug. The laughter of all my children together still lingers in my heart and fills it full.
It is Easter. I have celebrated the resurrection of Christ in so many different ways over the past years. I have celebrated with large family gatherings including cousins and board games; joined with friends from church in a pot luck style; eaten with just two of my children, lonely, in a restaurant... this year I even celebrated by being completely alone. It wasn't a bad thing - it was contemplative and restorative. I think that it might be one of the best ways I've spent the holiday, in all its intention, in my adult life. I spent it this way by choice though and maybe its that fact which made this day one of peace for me. It is a kind of peace I've been needing to feel.
The more holidays that I spend as a single adult, the more comfortable I am making choices that best suit ME. It is more in my nature to make everyone else feel happy, especially when I was actively parenting small children and trying to build traditions and memories, but as my children have become adults with all their own wants and choices, it seems easier now to place my own desires ahead of theirs. It makes me a different kind of parent for Griffin; and a better one I think. He'll see a more independent and strong woman as his mom and for him? For him I think that will ultimately serve his needs best as well. Funny how that works out in the end...by putting myself first, I become a better mom for this specific child at this specific time. Balance. Ah, there it is again.
It is spring, in spite of the frigid 30 degree weather and remnants of snow in patches on the ground. We move forward into the light, again, my little sidekick brown eyed boy and I. We move forward and I watch as my adult children do the same. We aren't together always, but we aren't truly alone either. We hold hands and we fall down and we help each other up and we find balance together; sometimes anchoring each other, and sometimes encouraging flight. The light is longer, brighter, and warmer as every day passes. It's good to know the dark days are fading away.
March 11, 2018
Settling
Its March now... every time I come to write an update, I find myself at a loss for words. I either don't know how to backtrack and fill in the details that matter, or I realize that there are so many things that have happened that I can't fit it into one post and I get overwhelmed. I guess the most important thing though is that our life has settled.
What a beautiful word that is! Settled. Two synonyms for settled are "adjusted" and "reconciled". I couldn't think of more fitting words.
Life, being what it is, is of course not stagnant or stationary. Changes are always happening as my kids grow and change, and even I can grow and change too, but things are a little sweeter and calmer and easier these days and for that, I am grateful.
I just signed G up for tee ball. He's doing so well now in school and I'm hopeful this will be one more way for him to develop his social skills further and find out that some grownups CAN be trusted... every positive exchange for him will build that trust and show him something kinder about life.
He lost his first tooth, navigated the occasional longer day at school including lunch in the cafeteria, experienced having to adapt to weather related unplanned no school days, vacation days with no vacation, homework, and the holy grail that is BOOK FAIR at school. We moved into our bigger apartment and he has his own bedroom for the first time. My little guy is... settled.
I'm no longer considering myself a stay at home mom however, but I am settling into this odd balance of working evenings so that I am home with G for breakfast, school, and lunch every day, and then he settles into the afternoon with his big sister. He is safe, and he is home, and all three of us are settled into this new balance.
Spring is approaching and I'm sure new changes will skew our settled, balanced, status but that's ok with me. I already know that next school year will see G in school full days and my goal is to switch to a day shift so I'm home every evening with him. In spite of the changes ahead, both the known and the unknown, I see the way the universe cycles through chaos and balance; I see how the more I hold on tight to fears and expectations, the longer it takes to work itself out. I'm not very good at letting go so its taking longer than I hoped to develop those skills, but I know I'll get there!
Here's to embracing change!
What a beautiful word that is! Settled. Two synonyms for settled are "adjusted" and "reconciled". I couldn't think of more fitting words.
Life, being what it is, is of course not stagnant or stationary. Changes are always happening as my kids grow and change, and even I can grow and change too, but things are a little sweeter and calmer and easier these days and for that, I am grateful.
I just signed G up for tee ball. He's doing so well now in school and I'm hopeful this will be one more way for him to develop his social skills further and find out that some grownups CAN be trusted... every positive exchange for him will build that trust and show him something kinder about life.
He lost his first tooth, navigated the occasional longer day at school including lunch in the cafeteria, experienced having to adapt to weather related unplanned no school days, vacation days with no vacation, homework, and the holy grail that is BOOK FAIR at school. We moved into our bigger apartment and he has his own bedroom for the first time. My little guy is... settled.
I'm no longer considering myself a stay at home mom however, but I am settling into this odd balance of working evenings so that I am home with G for breakfast, school, and lunch every day, and then he settles into the afternoon with his big sister. He is safe, and he is home, and all three of us are settled into this new balance.
Spring is approaching and I'm sure new changes will skew our settled, balanced, status but that's ok with me. I already know that next school year will see G in school full days and my goal is to switch to a day shift so I'm home every evening with him. In spite of the changes ahead, both the known and the unknown, I see the way the universe cycles through chaos and balance; I see how the more I hold on tight to fears and expectations, the longer it takes to work itself out. I'm not very good at letting go so its taking longer than I hoped to develop those skills, but I know I'll get there!
Here's to embracing change!
November 26, 2017
It's beginning to look a lot like... something...
It's been a few months since I checked in. Three months actually. These days, my very fact-loving 5 year old would insist upon it being accurate so I thought I'd clarify. Three months=a few months. Got it? Now back to our regular programming...
As is typical, a lot of changes have been happening. So much universal struggling to create balance and the occasional reminder that sometimes the balance comes whether we struggle for it or just wait it out. There's been a fair amount of both struggling and waiting over the past three months. When kids are this young, change happens so frequently and it goes hand in hand with the old "two steps forward, one step back" cliche that I hate, but yet can't refrain from inserting at this point. Of particular note: my little G-man started Kindergarten... and has been THRIVING.
I've felt such amazing gratitude for that fact that I find myself embarrassingly teetering on the edge of tears whenever I think about it. My fierce little guy has the perfect teacher for his needs; she is young and new to teaching but is not a sweet and warm fuzzy pushover, rather she is a no nonsense, consistent, and structured teacher, with a heart that really understands my guy, and who also knows what its like to parent a kiddo like G. She is generous with praise and lets me know often that G is doing well, having successes, growing and gaining to balance out the days where he is "learning" and "practicing" and "experiencing" different challenges. And he is, he is doing ALL of those things. He has friends, even a "best" friend. He is mastering the frustration of learning that he isn't the boss all the time and that sometimes he has to give in. His social skills are expanding and becoming more fluid. His brain is whizzing along and he's in an environment that supports that and encourages it and feeds it. This kid is reading a full grade level ahead and doing mental mathematics that keep me on my toes (and very, very humble!) We are both, standing back and looking at the big picture, very satisfied right now.
As the summer progressed, Griff got his cast removed, spent a few weeks in a removable splint, and was finally cleared for resuming all normal activity just in time for two weeks of swimming lessons and then day camp to end the summer. Of course I heard the statistics of re-breaking the same bone and had an undercurrent of terror every time he fell, but we got through it and now, a "few" months later, he remains unbroken and strong and his once broken arm is nearly as straight as his other one - probably only I can tell the difference. He conquered his first battle with poison ivy - a battle requiring both oral steroids and antibiotics and a LOT of patience...and learned the hard way that when I tell him we STAY on the bike path, I mean that we STAY on the bike path. You know, of all 4 of my children, he is very naturally exhibiting the same exact character trait that they have all inherited from me: we like our lessons learned the hard way, and independently. Sigh.
I am so proud of this fierce, independent, self protecting, smarty pants.
Over a year ago I left a job I loved and was dependent upon the universe to provide for us, and it did. I worked for a full 12 months as a per diem employee; scrambling for hours, no benefits, no sick time, no regular schedule. I worried for every second of it, and yet it all worked out. Even in the darkest moments in the winter when I was paying for prescription medicine for a sick little boy and hoping we could make the Ramen last for another two days, and I had to call out of work again; and even in the spring when I chose the trip to hawaii over keeping our savings for emergencies, it all worked out. I had to trust and have faith in the unseen, the unproven, the unsure. I didn't have a choice really but aside from THAT small fact, it was a lesson I needed to learn. To lean deeply without claiming victitude, without whining, without waiting for rescue. I mostly succeeded!
I say mostly, because there are other changes afoot in our household and I often find myself in a tornado of emotion and worry and doubt even as things are consistently working themselves out for the better. I chose to make some significant changes in my life last summer - changes that impact everyone in our house and to varying degrees. We've each one of us suffered some fall out, embraced the changes, felt the excitement and joy or the stress and unrest, equally. Its been different, and scary, and we have hurt some people in the process of making our own lives better which, honestly, really really stinks. It never feels good to hurt someone else, but even when you tread carefully and with authenticity and honesty, sometimes the agenda's that other people have for your life are at odds with your own truth. With utmost caution and thought, and deep reflection, I've made some choices for our family that some people near to us find objectionable. Surely I am not the first person to face objection when following their heart. I can say that I have done so though with such reflection, such planning and research, that I can only say, "I'm sorry you are hurt by this..." and do so without guilt.
Balance. Lessons. Independence. It looks like this...
As is typical, a lot of changes have been happening. So much universal struggling to create balance and the occasional reminder that sometimes the balance comes whether we struggle for it or just wait it out. There's been a fair amount of both struggling and waiting over the past three months. When kids are this young, change happens so frequently and it goes hand in hand with the old "two steps forward, one step back" cliche that I hate, but yet can't refrain from inserting at this point. Of particular note: my little G-man started Kindergarten... and has been THRIVING.
I've felt such amazing gratitude for that fact that I find myself embarrassingly teetering on the edge of tears whenever I think about it. My fierce little guy has the perfect teacher for his needs; she is young and new to teaching but is not a sweet and warm fuzzy pushover, rather she is a no nonsense, consistent, and structured teacher, with a heart that really understands my guy, and who also knows what its like to parent a kiddo like G. She is generous with praise and lets me know often that G is doing well, having successes, growing and gaining to balance out the days where he is "learning" and "practicing" and "experiencing" different challenges. And he is, he is doing ALL of those things. He has friends, even a "best" friend. He is mastering the frustration of learning that he isn't the boss all the time and that sometimes he has to give in. His social skills are expanding and becoming more fluid. His brain is whizzing along and he's in an environment that supports that and encourages it and feeds it. This kid is reading a full grade level ahead and doing mental mathematics that keep me on my toes (and very, very humble!) We are both, standing back and looking at the big picture, very satisfied right now.
As the summer progressed, Griff got his cast removed, spent a few weeks in a removable splint, and was finally cleared for resuming all normal activity just in time for two weeks of swimming lessons and then day camp to end the summer. Of course I heard the statistics of re-breaking the same bone and had an undercurrent of terror every time he fell, but we got through it and now, a "few" months later, he remains unbroken and strong and his once broken arm is nearly as straight as his other one - probably only I can tell the difference. He conquered his first battle with poison ivy - a battle requiring both oral steroids and antibiotics and a LOT of patience...and learned the hard way that when I tell him we STAY on the bike path, I mean that we STAY on the bike path. You know, of all 4 of my children, he is very naturally exhibiting the same exact character trait that they have all inherited from me: we like our lessons learned the hard way, and independently. Sigh.
I am so proud of this fierce, independent, self protecting, smarty pants.
Over a year ago I left a job I loved and was dependent upon the universe to provide for us, and it did. I worked for a full 12 months as a per diem employee; scrambling for hours, no benefits, no sick time, no regular schedule. I worried for every second of it, and yet it all worked out. Even in the darkest moments in the winter when I was paying for prescription medicine for a sick little boy and hoping we could make the Ramen last for another two days, and I had to call out of work again; and even in the spring when I chose the trip to hawaii over keeping our savings for emergencies, it all worked out. I had to trust and have faith in the unseen, the unproven, the unsure. I didn't have a choice really but aside from THAT small fact, it was a lesson I needed to learn. To lean deeply without claiming victitude, without whining, without waiting for rescue. I mostly succeeded!
I say mostly, because there are other changes afoot in our household and I often find myself in a tornado of emotion and worry and doubt even as things are consistently working themselves out for the better. I chose to make some significant changes in my life last summer - changes that impact everyone in our house and to varying degrees. We've each one of us suffered some fall out, embraced the changes, felt the excitement and joy or the stress and unrest, equally. Its been different, and scary, and we have hurt some people in the process of making our own lives better which, honestly, really really stinks. It never feels good to hurt someone else, but even when you tread carefully and with authenticity and honesty, sometimes the agenda's that other people have for your life are at odds with your own truth. With utmost caution and thought, and deep reflection, I've made some choices for our family that some people near to us find objectionable. Surely I am not the first person to face objection when following their heart. I can say that I have done so though with such reflection, such planning and research, that I can only say, "I'm sorry you are hurt by this..." and do so without guilt.
Balance. Lessons. Independence. It looks like this...
August 1, 2017
August again; 1 year later
Last year I was just turning in my badge at work, cleaning off my desk, and preparing to leave my full time job to stay home with G after what had been a very hard year for him.
The past 12 months have been filled with journeys and travels I never planned on or prepared for, some I didn't even know I was taking until I'd come back, changed by the entire experience. G has traveled his own path as well, with tremendous growth. This past year has allowed both of us to leave behind the anxiety and insecurities we brought into it. We both are more settled, calmer at our core, and stronger. Sitting down to write this feels less like chalking up another month gone by, and more like having a whole new blog to write. There is excitement ahead for both of us and I fully intend for both of us to embrace all of it.
Today I registered the Gman for Kindergarten. It was a hard decision for me to make and I fretted over it for months. Having just turned 5, I could have held him back for a year to let him grow into himself a little more. He still struggles with good social skills among his peers but this boy is also reading, doing math, and his busy busy brain is bored. I can't really teach him the social skills he will learn in school, and the child wants desperately to go. So he'll go. Today we drove to his school, a place where he has gone to play in the playground and to ride his bike around the walkways and has some familiarity with. He was so excited, and yes, nervous too. It felt very anticlimactic to me, personally, after all the worrying I'd done. We walked in, met the principal, handed over our paperwork, and that was it. Done. G skipped back to the car, buckled up his own car seat straps, and chatted all the way home like he usually does. It felt so normal. That is the life we are excited to have - normal.
I had a hard adjustment coming back from Hawaii. It wasn't just the post-vacation blues, it was more. I was heartbroken, and missing my family. The time that I'd spent with my brothers, my nephew, and some old friends, had made me so acutely aware of what I was missing in my life. It also made me equally aware of what my future was looking like and how much I did not enjoy the view. I felt very unbalanced, very lonely, and shaken to the core with all the uncertainties I was facing in my life. It took some hard work with a great therapist, and I'm pretty sure I caused more than one of my friends to actually roll their eyes by the time I worked through a lot of old trauma as well as a whole new crop of fears, but I did it. I came through a really broken heart and fearful spirit to find a new path for myself. A journey that I am choosing deliberately.
There will always be sadness when I look back at my past, and letting go of hope leaves a discomfort that I'd rather not experience, but none of it has the power to stop me from making a future and being hopeful, unless I let it. I'm not willing to let it derail me though. I can have both: I can feel sad, and I can feel happy and hopeful. It is, as usual, about balance.
It was a long year. A year of battling demons and I wouldn't trade the demons we battled because the lessons we learned were worth it. Just the same? I'm glad to close the door on the past 12 months, and grateful to fling open the door and welcome in everything that the next 12 months will bring. I can't wait to write about it!
The past 12 months have been filled with journeys and travels I never planned on or prepared for, some I didn't even know I was taking until I'd come back, changed by the entire experience. G has traveled his own path as well, with tremendous growth. This past year has allowed both of us to leave behind the anxiety and insecurities we brought into it. We both are more settled, calmer at our core, and stronger. Sitting down to write this feels less like chalking up another month gone by, and more like having a whole new blog to write. There is excitement ahead for both of us and I fully intend for both of us to embrace all of it.
Today I registered the Gman for Kindergarten. It was a hard decision for me to make and I fretted over it for months. Having just turned 5, I could have held him back for a year to let him grow into himself a little more. He still struggles with good social skills among his peers but this boy is also reading, doing math, and his busy busy brain is bored. I can't really teach him the social skills he will learn in school, and the child wants desperately to go. So he'll go. Today we drove to his school, a place where he has gone to play in the playground and to ride his bike around the walkways and has some familiarity with. He was so excited, and yes, nervous too. It felt very anticlimactic to me, personally, after all the worrying I'd done. We walked in, met the principal, handed over our paperwork, and that was it. Done. G skipped back to the car, buckled up his own car seat straps, and chatted all the way home like he usually does. It felt so normal. That is the life we are excited to have - normal.
I had a hard adjustment coming back from Hawaii. It wasn't just the post-vacation blues, it was more. I was heartbroken, and missing my family. The time that I'd spent with my brothers, my nephew, and some old friends, had made me so acutely aware of what I was missing in my life. It also made me equally aware of what my future was looking like and how much I did not enjoy the view. I felt very unbalanced, very lonely, and shaken to the core with all the uncertainties I was facing in my life. It took some hard work with a great therapist, and I'm pretty sure I caused more than one of my friends to actually roll their eyes by the time I worked through a lot of old trauma as well as a whole new crop of fears, but I did it. I came through a really broken heart and fearful spirit to find a new path for myself. A journey that I am choosing deliberately.
There will always be sadness when I look back at my past, and letting go of hope leaves a discomfort that I'd rather not experience, but none of it has the power to stop me from making a future and being hopeful, unless I let it. I'm not willing to let it derail me though. I can have both: I can feel sad, and I can feel happy and hopeful. It is, as usual, about balance.
It was a long year. A year of battling demons and I wouldn't trade the demons we battled because the lessons we learned were worth it. Just the same? I'm glad to close the door on the past 12 months, and grateful to fling open the door and welcome in everything that the next 12 months will bring. I can't wait to write about it!
June 16, 2017
I can see clearly now...
At my job I see all kinds of people, all kinds of families, all different circumstances and dynamics. It's easy, actually, to get burnt out, jaded, cynical. Easy to see through the lies and stories, to see past the smiles and cheer to the hidden family service interventions and methadone treatments and drama. Except for this... I am unfailingly optimistic and open and gullible. I see the story they tell as truth. I see their hope for truth. I see their own belief in their own story and that their "truth" is more true for them than I could ever imagine. I see their grief, and their joy.
Today I admitted no less than 10 separate visitors into the room of a momma who was in labor, in a hard and medically induced labor, all for the purpose of delivering a baby who had already ceased to have a heartbeat - a baby that was already being grieved for and cried over and for whom burial plans were being finalized. A baby that had been loved and wanted and dreamed over and planned for and was birthed into heartache and tears. They were LOUD and SAD.
I also witnessed a daddy, in full OR coveralls and mask, wheeling his very own momma in a wheelchair and leading a crew of 5 other family members down the hallway in a cheering, laughing, weeping, giddy mass of joy towards the nursery where they could gaze in adoration at a pink cheeked, dark haired, 8lb newborn baby - a damp, squishy, live and breathing baby. They showed me a picture of their newest member... They were LOUD and HAPPY.
Listening to the euphoric giggles of one family and seeing their smiles shining light beams down the hall, and then turning to the tear streaked, soft, drawn faces of the grievers showed me more truth today than any person has ever spoken.
This is a hard, hard world. Nothing is fair. Life isn't easy. People lie. Good things happen, and bad things happen, and sometimes to people who don't deserve what they end up with. And at the end of the day, there is always balance. Maybe not individually, but globally... and as part of the global population? I place my tears in the hands of the universe and I wait for my joyous giddy light beams.
Today I admitted no less than 10 separate visitors into the room of a momma who was in labor, in a hard and medically induced labor, all for the purpose of delivering a baby who had already ceased to have a heartbeat - a baby that was already being grieved for and cried over and for whom burial plans were being finalized. A baby that had been loved and wanted and dreamed over and planned for and was birthed into heartache and tears. They were LOUD and SAD.
I also witnessed a daddy, in full OR coveralls and mask, wheeling his very own momma in a wheelchair and leading a crew of 5 other family members down the hallway in a cheering, laughing, weeping, giddy mass of joy towards the nursery where they could gaze in adoration at a pink cheeked, dark haired, 8lb newborn baby - a damp, squishy, live and breathing baby. They showed me a picture of their newest member... They were LOUD and HAPPY.
Listening to the euphoric giggles of one family and seeing their smiles shining light beams down the hall, and then turning to the tear streaked, soft, drawn faces of the grievers showed me more truth today than any person has ever spoken.
This is a hard, hard world. Nothing is fair. Life isn't easy. People lie. Good things happen, and bad things happen, and sometimes to people who don't deserve what they end up with. And at the end of the day, there is always balance. Maybe not individually, but globally... and as part of the global population? I place my tears in the hands of the universe and I wait for my joyous giddy light beams.
June 5, 2017
June 2017: I shouldn't have blinked
He isn't 5 for another 16 days but he's already shed all of his babyness and is a full blown "kid". He grew a full two inches taller since January. I can barely carry him anymore with his long legs all dangly and getting tangled up in mine. He likes privacy in the bathroom now. He makes fart jokes. He reads street signs and labels and instructions (but only when he wants to), he can look at the calendar and know how many days are left in the week or the month. When we go to the doctor for check ups, he walks right up and gives his name and date of birth to the receptionist. When he laughs, it is a wild, full bellied, bent over double kind of laugh. His arm will be in a cast for another 4 weeks but he's already riding his scooter and running down trails and playing mini-golf...because he isn't a baby, he's a boy. He made his own peanut butter sandwich the other day.
I thought that I would be ready for this. I thought that I was just holding on for this exact moment when he didn't need me so much and wasn't sucking the soul out of me with his demands. I thought that I just couldn't wait until he was a real kid and not a baby... but it happened so quickly. I think it happened when I blinked. I might need to avoid blinking for awhile - I don't want to blink and find out he's driving the car and is taller than me. It feels like it could happen that way.
I started this blog as a written journey of what it was like to give up my full time job and stay at home with this wild boy. I thought it would be about saving his spirit, about his journey through a trauma back into wholeness. I didn't have a plan for what to do with it after G was well and whole. I never even wrote as much as I meant to from the start! I also didn't plan that it was going to be about my own journey. I didn't even realize I had a journey to go through. I was so fully unprepared to embark on a journey of my own, that just like I blinked and found my baby had turned into a boy, I blinked and found myself right in the middle of a life I didn't know I was going to be in, how I got here, or where I'm supposed to go next. One day I was in Hawaii on vacation with my child, and a week later I was sitting in a vast wilderness of complicated emotions and trauma and brokenness all of my own.
I try to focus on how the universe brings balance to my life in so many ways. I feel like its just how my life has been cared for by God (or whatever universal vibe you might want to call it). Suddenly though, I was smack dab in a place where all the balance had shifted in such a way that it left me spinning, sideways, tipped over, and most definitely unbalanced. A friend told me some theories show that the universe tends toward chaos and that maintaining order (or balance) actually requires effort. Huh. I had to ponder that one for awhile. It makes sense that to create balance you might have to put forth energy to offset the chaos, but I've always felt that the balance occurring in my life was a gift for me to embrace. Then I blinked.
I'm a little lost right now, a little adrift, and trying to look for balance, or to create my own balance even. I have another thought though; maybe I'm approaching it wrong. Maybe its not so much about trying to find or create balance, but about allowing time to pass and shift and for the balance to occur on it's own. Possibly I've become a little too used to things happening when I want them too, or when I make them happen, and not enough accustomed to waiting it out. There is a lesson there, I just have to pay attention to it. I'll try not to blink and miss it.
I thought that I would be ready for this. I thought that I was just holding on for this exact moment when he didn't need me so much and wasn't sucking the soul out of me with his demands. I thought that I just couldn't wait until he was a real kid and not a baby... but it happened so quickly. I think it happened when I blinked. I might need to avoid blinking for awhile - I don't want to blink and find out he's driving the car and is taller than me. It feels like it could happen that way.
I started this blog as a written journey of what it was like to give up my full time job and stay at home with this wild boy. I thought it would be about saving his spirit, about his journey through a trauma back into wholeness. I didn't have a plan for what to do with it after G was well and whole. I never even wrote as much as I meant to from the start! I also didn't plan that it was going to be about my own journey. I didn't even realize I had a journey to go through. I was so fully unprepared to embark on a journey of my own, that just like I blinked and found my baby had turned into a boy, I blinked and found myself right in the middle of a life I didn't know I was going to be in, how I got here, or where I'm supposed to go next. One day I was in Hawaii on vacation with my child, and a week later I was sitting in a vast wilderness of complicated emotions and trauma and brokenness all of my own.
I try to focus on how the universe brings balance to my life in so many ways. I feel like its just how my life has been cared for by God (or whatever universal vibe you might want to call it). Suddenly though, I was smack dab in a place where all the balance had shifted in such a way that it left me spinning, sideways, tipped over, and most definitely unbalanced. A friend told me some theories show that the universe tends toward chaos and that maintaining order (or balance) actually requires effort. Huh. I had to ponder that one for awhile. It makes sense that to create balance you might have to put forth energy to offset the chaos, but I've always felt that the balance occurring in my life was a gift for me to embrace. Then I blinked.
I'm a little lost right now, a little adrift, and trying to look for balance, or to create my own balance even. I have another thought though; maybe I'm approaching it wrong. Maybe its not so much about trying to find or create balance, but about allowing time to pass and shift and for the balance to occur on it's own. Possibly I've become a little too used to things happening when I want them too, or when I make them happen, and not enough accustomed to waiting it out. There is a lesson there, I just have to pay attention to it. I'll try not to blink and miss it.
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