Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Born Seeking Joy


There's no controlling it anymore: life that is (not that there ever was but for the most part I had a nice preconceived notion cooking for about 34 years...give or take). When I'm old and sitting in some rocker on a porch with my grand kids, I will tell them how October 2010 changed me; change my life. I will tell them how I lost my dad and birthed my baby girl - both events cracking my heart open wider each time. It's as if my moon landing finally occurred; my innocence was wholly unveiled and there was no turning back.


I don't even know how to begin. The entrance of miss m has left me wordless; I can't even do it justice welcoming her to this silly blog. I like to think she was "born seeking joy" as it says on the onesie her Aunt T gave her. She ties up my time so I can't fumble over a keyboard unraveling my thoughts. She demands my presence in the present and it has left me feeling like a newborn myself. She stole my heart and holds it some place secret. I know this because right as she drifts to bed she gets a pirate's grin across her face. It is unconscious and uncontrolled and it leads me to believe she has character... I like that about the old girl.


We have been through a lot already. I look at her and think to myself, one day I will remind her of it when she thinks she "can't" and I know she "can". We're old hat at the trenches and we found a way to survive, hell thrive. It's really nothing short of spectacular and it's really nothing special either. I'm reminded that this is life: it comes and goes in ways you never expected. It brings joy and sorrow and writes a new story every day (at this point sometimes every hour). It sends a curve ball when you anticipated a fast pitch - all you are left to do is take a swing.



Miss m is the force demanding I swing; the closing of my eyes with a wish; the crack of the bat; the cool sailing curve of an arch through the sky; the promise of a home run; and the elation of the moment. She has lit up the stadium (why I am using to a baseball metaphor, I have no idea). In any case, she's pretty fantastic and I look forward to holding her hand through this life for as long as I can.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

11:11

We have a wish bone sitting on our windowsill. It's nice and dry and ripe for the cracking. I can't even remember what "bird" it came from - it was weeks ago. I keep forgetting to grab a leg and ask D to grab the other and pull - but I will do it soon enough.

I've been catching 11:11 a lot lately (perhaps because my life is now played out in three to four hour segments of time and so I watch the clock like a crack hor these days). Who knows why four ones on a clock is an open invite for wishing but somewhere along the line someone told me it was, so when I catch it I make a wish.

I LOVE making wishes. You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true (good right?! it's not me, it's Richard Bach). I remember as a kid, the one wish bone on Thanksgiving was a sought after treasure. I feel as if my parents always gave us turns at it (having to keep the peace with six girls wanting to make a wish) and we would watch as the two lucky candidates got to pull and see who's end was longer (what an effed up thing to symbolize luck; but once again, I digress). That was the great wish of the year (well that and the pennies in the Southglenn Mall fountain).

In any case, sometimes I see a wish as pure folly, but most of the time I see it as a moment to refocus on something positive I want from life.

So make a wish!

Sunday, November 21, 2010

The End

Those last couple of days of my pregnancy were fraught with emotion. Thankfully, I had D to carry me through as well as being constantly checked up on by a doting nursemaid.

For a while it wasn't clear if there would ever be bright days again...


I was about as round as I could be and felt picked through like
the pumpkin patch I visited.

All my sisters were in St. Augustine for my dad's funeral service.
D was tasked with the heavy order of providing the face-to-face missing cynical humor with an UBER-dark slant. For his part, I must admit he did a great job: joking that all the crying I was doing would leave our kid with shaken-baby syndrome and offering to make me a bloody Vergina when the frustration of passing my due date started getting to me.


After we sifted through the rawness of the service, we were left at home in the silence on our couch ... waiting for the baby to arrive. It was such a hollow let down, and it felt best to refocus on the promise of the baby again. Our doula offered to come henna my belly and it was just the sort of thing that seemed strangely appropriate since I could get old-fashioned fuzzy. The baby moved around the entire time loving every bit of the attention and joy it created.


The Sunday before my water broke, D and I took Ginger up to Elk Meadow for a hike. The weather flirted with snow and we saw three elk nestled in for the afternoon. Ginger made it all the way without the angst or anxiety she has come to adopt on any given walk. It really was the brightest point.


This is our last family photo with the baby in utero
(can you dig Ginger clocking the belly?!).