motives

I believe that it is possible to be happy and fulfilled without children, and I absolutely believe that a woman can live a meaningful life without ever being a mother. But for me, having my son is what changed my mind about living. It made me not just want to live, for the first time ever, but to live the best possible life. To set goals and pursue them, for real, not just say something that sounded nice and then dwell on all the reasons why it was impossible. The goals I have for my life now still seem big and far away, but I know that I can reach them, and I am determined to show my son that adversity does not guarantee failure and delays do not equal defeat.

I won't ever say, "If I can do it, you can do it." I don't know what you can do; only you know that. But I have room in my heart for you, and for your struggles, because of how I chose to deal with mine.

freedom of/in/from religion

"What's God?"

"You know when you want something real bad, and you close your eyes and wish for it? God's the guy that ignores you."

The Island (2005)

I have been pretty torn over the question of whether I want my son to grow up with or without a religion. Phil was raised Catholic but has not quite settled into anything as an adult. I grew up in a non-denominational church; Sunday School and bible stories, starring roles in Christmas and Easter choirs. I was a youth leader for several years, only ever listened to Christian music, went away to Australia to attend an evengelical school for six months when I was twenty. I know the bible fairly well, can have a conversation/heated argument with just about anyone about it if necessary, and I think it's good and useful knowledge to have. Knowledge I want my son to have as well, should similar conversations/arguments arise for him.

In my life now I've thrown out every religious rule that I used to try to follow so carefully, save the only one I believe really matters: love one another. In my deepest heart I believe that there is a god, that Jesus loves us and that his love drove him here, to do something exquisite and unlikely and compelling. But when I needed it most, when my heart broke open and my mind flooded with dark memories long shut away, and the carefully crafted facade of my pretty life crumbled around me, the Church failed me--and with second and third and fourth chances, never improved--so I am done with church. I went to a service for the first time in years, during our Christmas trip to WA, to please Phil and for Hunter to have a new experience. I did not enjoy it, but thankfully it was pretty innocuous since they sang Christmas carols instead of worship songs and the message was direct contemplation of scripture, not just some guy telling us what's what and propping up his opinions with a bible verse here and there. I handled it, but I was glad to leave.

I want Hunter to be educated so that he can make his own decisions. If he decides that God and Jesus and all the rules are legit, or that Buddha or Muhammad and Allah know better what they're about, or that the Universe is one and life is inherently beautiful and meaningful, or that the Universe is one and we are all in entropy, or any combination of any of the above, I will love him exactly the same.

many nights to come

Usually if Hunter wakes up during the night he just snuffles and grunts and slobbers on his hands until I pick him up, and usually it's only once, now, if at all. But last night he woke up shrieking, twice. I guess I've gotten spoiled because it was quite a shock to my system and as I staggered over to him and scooped him up, admittedly a bit annoyed and more than a little disorientated, it occurred to me what a big committment this is, Being A Parent. What a long term responsibility. Intellectually I know it but sometimes it really hits me over the head.

He's only going to be this little for so long. He's going to get bigger and his problems and his needs are going to get more complex. Even though eventually we'll all get more sleep, he's still going to wake up in the night sometimes, no matter how old he is. He's going to need me to banish monsters and nightmares and fevers and other things that only come out after dark.

Among other duties, of course. There is the daytime as well.

I quickly shook off my irritation and kissed him on his soft round cheek while he howled hysterically into my ear for no apparent reason. "This too shall pass" is a double-edged sword. The hard times will pass but so will the sweet ones.



My little monkey, my lovie, my snuggle buddy. I'm here, baby. I'm here.

heavy

Something awful happened a few days ago in Isla Vista, CA and since Phil went to UCSB it strikes a chord with him I guess, so he's had this appalled and morbid fascination with the event and consequently I have heard way more about it than I ever would have wanted. Saturday night before I went to bed I was on Twitter and saw the dramatic outpouring of experiences being shared under #yesallwomen. It was powerful and I'm not sorry I read them but it made me feel sad and vulnerable and it was hard to go to sleep after that.

I mostly follow comedians; some of them got serious, others satirical. Here are some gems from my Twitter feed:

I don't want women to judge me by the same high standard I use to judge them. That wouldn't be fair at all.

— Mark Leggett ✂︎ ☹ (@markleggett) May 22, 2014

Women are still represented as a minority in politics, entertainment & business, even though we are over 1/2 of the population. #YesAllWomen

— Eliza Skinner (@elizaskinner) May 24, 2014

"Can men really have it all? A family and a career?" Isn't a regular headline. #YesAllWomen

— TaylorAileenHarrison (@goldieharrison) May 25, 2014

"I have a boyfriend" is the easiest way to get a man to leave you alone. Because he respects another man more than you. #yesallwomen

— Rylah (@JBRylah) May 25, 2014

Because the friendzone is the fictional exile of the entitled. “Sexual partner” is not a woman’s default mode. #yesallwomen

— Harrison Mooney (@HarrisonMooney) May 25, 2014

we're trained to avoid stereotypical “abuser” types, but I was only abused by people who were supposed to love & protect me #YesAllWomen

— keply (@keplyq) May 25, 2014

Of all the things we're told to be scared of (Muslims, black men in hoodies) nothing terrifies quite like entitled white men #YesAllWomen

— Ally Maynard (@missmayn) May 26, 2014

"Hey will you wait and make sure I get into my apartment safely?" -Not men.

— Jhon Rules (@JhonRules) May 25, 2014

#YesAllWomen because I get asked about my relationship status and my diet before I get asked about my career at a family gathering.

— Rosenasty (@RoseNasty) May 25, 2014

Guy I went to high school with asked why I'm not married I was like I don't know why are u gettin drunk in a folding chair life is a mystery

— AmberTozer (@AmberTozer) May 26, 2014

Observations: 1) When people get defensive, it's because it hits too close to home 2) How many men do you know that carry a rape whistle?

— Sam Grittner (@SamGrittner) May 26, 2014

I think the reason this particular crime has had this kind of response was due in part to the disturbing videos the shooter put out beforehand, placing the blame squarely on his victims and describing what he was going to do to them because they didn't think he was as amazing as he did. But above and beyond that, more attention should be drawn to the fact that he purposefully distributed the videos to several people, all of whom who could have done something to stop him. And nothing was done. And people died. And this fucking asshole is getting publicity and even sympathy and it makes me want to scratch my own eyes out and punch a lot of people in the throat and I honestly don't even think I'm overreacting. (If you tell me that I am, you may be added to my throat-punch list.)

Anyway. I've been really agitated the last few days. I don't have the heart to link to the story or the youtube vidoes, but I'm sure they're not hard to find if you feel like you need to see them to understand what I'm talking about. I have more to say but I also have a baby to take care of, so. I guess that's it for now.

time keeps on slipping

I am already mourning his tiny newness and wishing I had more photos and video from the last few weeks. I was in too much of a sleepless haze and it truly did not even occur to me until now, which makes sense but still surprises me for some reason, and I have to forgive myself for it. I do have some very sweet photos on my phone and instagram but I hope if I do all this again I will remember, and get more creative sooner with the real camera. He's definitely lost that newborn look already, the simpler, more serene expressions, the purple-red extremeties, that thin and peely skin. He's filled out so much and has rolls now all over him, and has suddenly outgrown clothes he could wear just a few days ago. Most people guess when they see him that he's older than he is. Such a short time ago I wished he would wake up more, and now it is a challenge to get him to sleep. He's so bright and alert and doesn't seem to want to miss a thing.

There are only a few photos of me and him together, but every time I see one I feel a wave of mild vertigo. That is my baby. I am his mother. That is a photo of a baby and his mother. It hardly seems real but I am so thankful that it is.

here is the world

My sweet baby is one month old. I'd love to say something poetic and concise about being a new mom and how magical it all is but I don't quite have it in me at the moment. Sleep deprivation and whatnot, you see. But my heart is full. I still tear up when I talk to him, but I do talk. Sometimes he looks concerned and I make sure to explain that I am happy, not sad. I don't worry anymore about being a good mother, I just do the things a good mother would do. Phil and I love him and sing him our own made-up songs and tell him about the kind of person we hope he will be, the kind of life we'd like him to have. I knew we could do it, and we are doing it, and everything is going to be fine.

Here is the world, my love.
It is all for you.

I will be the one to show him how to not be afraid.

hello

Well it is finally the new year which is a huge relief. We had lots of fun celebrating (dinner, friends, dancing, and fireworks in San Francisco). At midnight as we were all exchanging hugs a friend patted my belly and said, "Happy New Year to you too, Baby! It's going to be a big year!" Oh my yes. The biggest, for all of us.

January means my maternity leave is within reach and baby's birthday is right around the corner. I am completely exhausted, and every part of my body hurts. I'm more anxious about having everything ready for him than I am about labor or what happens after, though that may catch up with me in due course. For now I am just looking forward to being at home for a couple of weeks before life turns upside down, and finally having a chance to (slowly but surely) get all the clothes washed and all the new stuff put away and his quilt completed and so on, without stressing about anything else. And trying to rest while I still can.

Speaking of rest, time to collapse for an hour or two and then wake up and not be able to go back to sleep for another hour or two on and off for the rest of the night. Pregnancy, woo!

day of hope

So many days spent in darkness before I finally realized: the light never went anywhere. It's only that I had my eyes clenched shut so tight. There is no shame in it, I was only protecting myself -- brilliantly, I might add. I hope one day you will see it too, if you haven't already. That the light never leaves you. That you can be warm again if you want to.

I will probably lose friends over this pregnancy. I know what it's like, a betrayal almost, to go to a place that housed your pain and find it filled instead with tentative hope that you are not ready to take part in, not yet. I'll understand if you don't want to come here anymore, though I'm still myself, still willing to hold your hand, and your pain will never be strange to me.

I am grateful for the space I had to know myself, before this baby came along. We can enter our relationship on sturdy, even ground. I am not desperate for this baby. I do not need him/her more than he/she needs me. We are bound by our mutual relationship, no more and no less, rather than a pre-existing need to possess or replace, and already I am giving my baby a better start than I ever had a chance at.

Love and light to you on this remembering day, wheverever you are, whoever you are.

Hurting and healed, desperate and calm, eyes open or shut -- you are worthy.



Visit Project Heal for information about the Day of Hope. Or read more of my thoughts on babyloss here.

side effect

Being pregnant has made so many old memories fresh again. I dream about some thing that happened or some member of my family I never see anymore weekly, if not nightly. Mostly it does not rattle me too badly, but it does make me thoughtful and sometimes sad. During the day it stays on my mind and I have told P many little stories over the last couple of months, stories I've never told anyone. It is good to get them out, and P takes it in stride. He's learned to listen and nod and say "That's weird" or "That's fucked up" and then let it go. And I nod too, and keep folding the sheets, because that is all I needed from him. On their own, these anecdotes in a normal family might only make you wrinkle your nose or shake your head, but all together, and combined with the deeper tragedies behind them, it is rather terrible to think about. I am thankful to have someone to be with me in it and also help me push past and through. I did it by myself for so long.

Our anatomy scan is scheduled for September 20th. If we find out it's a girl, I've decided to get into counseling again right away. If it's a boy, I may wait and see how it goes. Either way I'll have a support team on standby after the birth. I am at a million percent risk for postpartum depression, and I am not willing to put myself, P, or the baby through any more of that than I can help.

capture, release

I went over the list, saved it on my computer. Read it again, closed it again. I am an avid photographer, like it or not; I could have completed the project easily enough. But in the end I didn't feel compelled to. It might have helped, early on. But grief is not something I want to capture, anymore. Those particular relics are not what I want to keep.

I am still the face. I have been captured by grief -- and then, without quite knowing the exact moment that it happened -- released. And I find I am able to return that favor, finally. And I am pleased, and pensive, and content.