Three

All the things that make up you are all the things I love. Okay. Maybe not all the things. But all the things that make up you are all the things that have made me grow exponentially over the last three years, that's for sure. Since the day you peacefully entered the world, your sweet spirit has enabled me to reach towards being a better me. I'm not sure if that's part of the job description of "Mama" or if it is just what I needed in my life - but the pull is undeniable. I need to be better. I have to be better. Because you are here. Because you are, every day, the best you can be. Because you know no other way to be. And I strive to do the same. It is not perfection I am growing towards. It is living fully and with arms wide open to the world. Be patient with me, for living as you do takes a lot of unlearning for an adult like me. Luckily, I have the perfect teacher. Thank you for taking me under your wing.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy.

Love,

~Mama

Simplify

This summer we will move from our 2,000 square foot house into a 400 square foot apartment. Yup. This move it temporary, and all part of our larger long-term plan. It is also something that I am greatly looking forward to. We have wanted to downsize and simplify our life for some time now. We want to eventually build a small, sustainable home on some acreage and the move this summer will help us be able to do that in the next few years.

Last fall we spent three weeks traveling around in our 28-foot travel trailer. We loved the close quarters so much more than we thought we would and that gave us the final push we needed to make the move into a tiny space. I've already started purging lots of stuff we have accumulated (for no good reason) and it feels great. Simple is what I crave these days and simple is definitely where we're headed.

To be continued...

Year's End Giving

Here are the places I am giving money as the year draws to a close.

WFYI - My local public radio station, because, public media. 

Prayers4Lindsey - Funds to help offset medical costs following a tragedy (personal connection). 

International Studies Trip - Just like it sounds. 

Project Home Indy - A wonderful organization helping young women who are pregnant and/or mothering and homeless.

Breast Cancer Action - Just... Yes. 

The Sun Magazine - I am not only a subscriber, but a donor. Do yourself a favor and subscribe to this. 

Bleakness

The paper cartoon turkeys and cornucopias taped up in the hallways only served to highlight the bleakness of the hospital walls they were meant to hide. "So, just the pregnancy test?" she said, looking at the dark, smudged paper that had been faxed over by my midwife. For a minute I didn't know what to say. I knew that hCG levels were what they checked via blood draw to see if someone was pregnant. But I was not pregnant. And the last thing I needed was to be reminded of that fact. I felt my face grow warm. "Yes," I said. "I'm not... Yes."

The last time I miscarried there had been no embryonic development, so the event itself was physically no big deal. Like a late period. This time I was further along, there had been development, and I ended up in the E.R. (where I promptly passed out) with severe cramps, heavy bleeding, and blood clots larger than a softball. It took me several weeks to fully recover, even though the miscarriage had been a natural one (that is to say, I did not require medical intervention) to that point. I was getting my hCG levels checked to make sure they were going down to 0, basically to rule out any retained tissue and a molar pregnancy. I was not pregnant. Not anymore.

My midwife tells me that my two back-to-back miscarriages could just be "bad luck". There might not be anything physically wrong with me and my ability to sustain a pregnancy. But it sure doesn't feel that way. I feel broken.

My grief comes in waves. My sadness for my loss and my gratitude for my relative health are strangely intertwined in my head and in my heart. I don't know where to go from here, honestly. Onward, to be sure. But with what in sight? I guess for now I will go about my days with cheerfulness taped up on the hallways of my heart in an effort to hide the bleakness.

Dazzle

Gender norms, schmender norms. 

24 Days, 28 Feet

We spent the last 24 days on the road in our 28' travel trailer, Ruby. I named her in honor of my Nana. I think Nana would have loved that.

Toddlers and travel trailer living are a good fit, surprisingly. At the end of the trip, none of us wanted to come back. Having to get up and walk into another room or, gasp, to another FLOOR of the house to talk to someone was more than we needed. Our sense of comfort and connection were all the more when we have such close living quarters and Mother Nature out our back door, ready to be explored. Our sense of space and material goods were blown to bits. We can't wait for our next trip.

Happenings

Our drive home tonight took about 15 minutes longer than it should have. I drove 75% of the way at 45 mph. On the interstate. Because the street sweepers were out. Two of them, actually, one following the other. And BC loves them - finds them fascinating. "Slow down, Mama!", was the request. What could I do? I slowed down. Way down. Even put on my hazard lights at one point. We drove in the slow lane while the street sweepers drove in the fast lane (I assume, being city vehicles, they don't get honked at for doing so), and all the others drove furiously down the center lane. Amid those flurries of cars speeding past my son stared intently at the sweepers - eyes never moving - until they eventually turned off and we drove on.

Approximately 5 minutes before The Great Street Sweeper Sighting I popped in a new cd BC's Grandmama gave him. The cd is of her performing pioneer and old-time children's songs at a local school recorded several years ago. He had been listening to that cd for the past couple of weeks at her house. One night last week he asked me to sing the "Fiddly-Fee song". I had no clue. "It's a Grandmama song", he reminded me. "Fiddly-Fee". Still nothing. I ended up singing something else that night but the next day I asked my mom what song BC meant. It turned out to be The Barnyard Song (it's the Cat, by the way, who says "fiddle-aye-fee" in the lyrics). I remembered the song from my childhood but needed the cd to listen to myself to learn it by heart. Hence our having it for our drive home tonight. The Barnyard Song is the second on the album and when it came on I said, "Hey! It's The Barnyard Song." BC paused. "You know it now!" he said.

Before our drive home we had been out to dinner with my family. One of BC's uncles ordered some chips and salsa as a starter. What luck! BC's favorite thing: chips! And, yes, salsa. He started out with a few chips and a bit of salsa on a small appetizer plate but it wasn't long before he had the bowl of salsa in front of him, one end of the straw from his cup in the bowl, and the other end in his mouth. I guess sometimes you just need some salsa.

This kid is the greatest.