This post started as something else. Then something monumental and life-changing happened. Or, more accurately, I committed to something very difficult. The existing version seemed silly. It was erased. Emotional or emotionless nonsense followed. So here I am, sitting in front of this post one more time.
My intention with this blog is to share advice I have been asked for, opinions I have developed, and tidbits I have experienced. What I have recently gone through is not a tidbit. It cannot be shared in one neat entry. With this in mind, I will try and avoid trivial details. Instead, I will attempt to explain my mental process. Exorcise a few of my many demons.
Spontaneity. Adventures. Conversations. Trust.
Slowly...
Over years...
These things have slipped away...
There were discussions. Improvements followed. Then declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.
Discussions.
Improvements.
Declines.
Fights.
The background rhythm to my life...
and the beat goes on...
and so does my life...
and new melodies play over this rhythm...
relationships mature...
jobs change...
friendships bloom...
babies are born...
and still this sickening rhythm goes on...
But the melodies change the priorities of the song of my life and a truly improved rhythm is required. One that is not in constant tension with the wonderful possibilities of my song.
It is my song.
It is ultimately my responsibility to change the beat.
I can no longer look to others for that change.
It comes from within.
It is true that factors affect the nature of the rhythm but the extent of the impact is in my hands.
I have had to ask tough questions:
What role have I played in creating this rhythm?
How often have I danced along?
How often have I allowed my melodies to be influenced by the pattern of this beat?
I do not like the answers. I have not liked my song. Some of the melodies are beautiful and harmonious. Too many have been allowed to become dissonant.
I wake up to a disappointingly familiar low point in the rhythm. It is not the worst but it is enough. The song is broken. My song is broken. It cannot continue as it is. There is no anger. There is no joy. There is only despair. It sounds like breaking glass.
The rhythm is stopped. The melodies continue. The beat of necessity is used to prop them up and allow the song to limp along.
The hope... and there is hope... is that the beat can be changed. Helped. Healed. Cycles broken. Hearts mended.
The fear... and there is fear... is that the beat will be allowed to end. No effort. Just pain.
The solace... and there is solace... is that families never end. They can change, rearrange, but they never truly end.
And there is love...
Love.
LOVE.
And it is worthy of the hardest work...
and I will work...
and I hope I am joined in the work...
Hope.
HOPE...
For the new. For the possibilities. For the promises.
For the love.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
My Story... For Maddie...
There was blood. There was dilation. There were contractions. There was panic. There was a steroid shot. There were antibiotics. There was bed rest. There was waiting. There was water... sweet, hot, early, and terrible. Then, there was a baby. My baby...
Tubes, IVs, monitors, lights, alarms, and my precious baby in the NICU. She fought to breathe on her own, to eat on her own, to be on her own. She won.
Home. Healthy. Happy. Until she stopped breathing, stopped fighting. She was early. She didn't know that the fight wasn't over. We had to help her fight, to hold her up. We held her for months until she could hold her own.
But there are always worries. Colds, infections, coughs, and what they mean for the early ones.
But there is love... so much love. And joy... more than a heart can handle. I am better because of her. I see other families and I know that their children make them better too. The love and joy our children have given us enriches the lives of everyone we touch.
This amazing world allows us to connect to so many people on such personal levels. As I am blessed by the stories people have been generous enough to share, I realize something. Every family's story is my story and every family's story is their own.
Heather and Mike, I have followed your story for some time. Silently reliving so many experiences. Quietly smiling at all of your unique humor and creativity. Amazed at the baby girl on the screen, so much like my baby, so completely and beautifully singular.
Although our experiences at this point are so different, your lives have touched me. I am moved to leave the shadows. I am only one small voice that you have never heard before, but I join the chorus. Your daughter is loved. Your daughter is vibrant. She brings laughter to the lips and tears to the eyes of legions. Thank you for sharing a small piece of her light with us, we are all better for it.
Tubes, IVs, monitors, lights, alarms, and my precious baby in the NICU. She fought to breathe on her own, to eat on her own, to be on her own. She won.
Home. Healthy. Happy. Until she stopped breathing, stopped fighting. She was early. She didn't know that the fight wasn't over. We had to help her fight, to hold her up. We held her for months until she could hold her own.
But there are always worries. Colds, infections, coughs, and what they mean for the early ones.
But there is love... so much love. And joy... more than a heart can handle. I am better because of her. I see other families and I know that their children make them better too. The love and joy our children have given us enriches the lives of everyone we touch.
This amazing world allows us to connect to so many people on such personal levels. As I am blessed by the stories people have been generous enough to share, I realize something. Every family's story is my story and every family's story is their own.
Heather and Mike, I have followed your story for some time. Silently reliving so many experiences. Quietly smiling at all of your unique humor and creativity. Amazed at the baby girl on the screen, so much like my baby, so completely and beautifully singular.
Although our experiences at this point are so different, your lives have touched me. I am moved to leave the shadows. I am only one small voice that you have never heard before, but I join the chorus. Your daughter is loved. Your daughter is vibrant. She brings laughter to the lips and tears to the eyes of legions. Thank you for sharing a small piece of her light with us, we are all better for it.
November 11, 2007 - April 7, 2009
______________________________________________
Information about Maddie, donations to Maddie's favorite charity
(March of Dimes), helping the Spohrs, and the service and reception.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Bite your dog...
This is just a simple bit of advice about communication. So often we feel that we are being misunderstood. No one understands us. No one gets us. Maybe it's because we aren't speaking the same language. Or your language is not the same as the people listening to you. Or, more accurately, your reality, and the language that comes from it, is different from the reality of the person with whom you are speaking. Think about it. Perhaps you are misunderstood because you can't put yourself in the other person's shoes. You can't describe your reality in a way that is meaningful to them.
Enter the dog. The dog likes to play with you. You like to play with the dog. Sometimes it gets beyond fun and the fangs and claws start to hurt. You say "OW!" and Fido gnaws harder. You squeal and run away, Spot bounds after you. Your perspective: you and your lovable fur ball were playing and it got out of control. Woofer's view: They were playing with their favorite person, it got to be really fun, their person squealed happily, and started an awesome game of chase.
Watch a mother dog playing with her puppies. They enjoy playing. Sometimes it gets out of control. She handles it in a very distinct way that the puppy completely understands. She bites them. Gently but firmly on their muzzle. Play stops. Lesson learned. The mother dog speaks the same language as the puppy, obviously. But more than that, she understands the puppy's reality. She was there once herself.
Contrary to the title, I am not suggesting that you actually bite your dog, or anyone else for that matter. What I am suggesting is to think outside of your situation. Sometimes when we feel the most misunderstood it is because we have cut ourselves off from everyone else. With a little less ego and a little larger perspective it is possible to find a common language, a common reality. Use your imagination and flex your compassion, viola - understanding between co-workers, relatives, couples, generations, species, etc... A little effort with a lot of reward: better relationships and a stronger sense of connection.
Enter the dog. The dog likes to play with you. You like to play with the dog. Sometimes it gets beyond fun and the fangs and claws start to hurt. You say "OW!" and Fido gnaws harder. You squeal and run away, Spot bounds after you. Your perspective: you and your lovable fur ball were playing and it got out of control. Woofer's view: They were playing with their favorite person, it got to be really fun, their person squealed happily, and started an awesome game of chase.
Watch a mother dog playing with her puppies. They enjoy playing. Sometimes it gets out of control. She handles it in a very distinct way that the puppy completely understands. She bites them. Gently but firmly on their muzzle. Play stops. Lesson learned. The mother dog speaks the same language as the puppy, obviously. But more than that, she understands the puppy's reality. She was there once herself.
Contrary to the title, I am not suggesting that you actually bite your dog, or anyone else for that matter. What I am suggesting is to think outside of your situation. Sometimes when we feel the most misunderstood it is because we have cut ourselves off from everyone else. With a little less ego and a little larger perspective it is possible to find a common language, a common reality. Use your imagination and flex your compassion, viola - understanding between co-workers, relatives, couples, generations, species, etc... A little effort with a lot of reward: better relationships and a stronger sense of connection.
Friday, March 13, 2009
On loss...
Pregnancy is amazing. It is scary, humbling, awe-inspiring, and beautiful. Pregnancy makes the future bloom with possibility and wither as well. Your dreams are manifest in every kick and heartbeat. Your fears are present in every stillness or drop of blood.
There are assurances. There are milestones. You move from one point of panic to another, adding new hopes and dreams along the way. You mark these points of progress because you no longer have to worry about being queasy and can look forward to elastic waistbands. With every step forward you are thankful to put away the concerns of the last step, because you don't have to worry about that anymore.
But sometimes you do. Sometimes you are far enough along not to worry about miscarriage, but it happens anyway. Sometimes you begin to bleed but the baby's heartbeat is strong and regular. Sometimes you try to calm the spasms but the urge to push is too strong. Sometimes your body fails you and you push that still beating heart out of you.
You hold your family close. You kiss your child. You stare in amazement at the card and pictures from the grief counselor. You touch the impossibly tiny footprints. You become angry at yourself. You become angry at everyone else who is pregnant. Everyone is pregnant. Everyone is healthy. Everyone says something nice and normal. Everything sounds crass and crazy. Everything is not okay.
It won't be okay. It never will be. But there are other milestones. Other worries. Other joys. As these dearest possibilities are lost and mourned, different futures are unfolded. Even in passing, your baby is loved and your heart will never change even though the course of your life has.
There are assurances. There are milestones. You move from one point of panic to another, adding new hopes and dreams along the way. You mark these points of progress because you no longer have to worry about being queasy and can look forward to elastic waistbands. With every step forward you are thankful to put away the concerns of the last step, because you don't have to worry about that anymore.
But sometimes you do. Sometimes you are far enough along not to worry about miscarriage, but it happens anyway. Sometimes you begin to bleed but the baby's heartbeat is strong and regular. Sometimes you try to calm the spasms but the urge to push is too strong. Sometimes your body fails you and you push that still beating heart out of you.
You hold your family close. You kiss your child. You stare in amazement at the card and pictures from the grief counselor. You touch the impossibly tiny footprints. You become angry at yourself. You become angry at everyone else who is pregnant. Everyone is pregnant. Everyone is healthy. Everyone says something nice and normal. Everything sounds crass and crazy. Everything is not okay.
It won't be okay. It never will be. But there are other milestones. Other worries. Other joys. As these dearest possibilities are lost and mourned, different futures are unfolded. Even in passing, your baby is loved and your heart will never change even though the course of your life has.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Our futures and families are intertwined and fragile. This contains disturbing topics...
I listen to the news in my car, at work, in my home. I listen and, increasingly, I have to fight back tears. Horrors are being visited upon people of all ages in Congo, Sudan, Rwanda, Zimbabwe, Thailand, Cambodia, and too many other countries around the world. Women and children are kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery around the world. They face a future of repeated rape, torture, forced abortions, mutilations, sexually transmitted diseases, and possibly murder. Men and boys are being conscripted into militias, drugged, beaten, threatened, and forced to endure soul-killing atrocities. Villages are being burned, wells poisoned, the men taken or killed, the women raped or killed, and the children- even infants- are raped and left behind. Families are torn apart, bodies are broken, dreams crushed, futures dashed, hopes killed. Young girls suffer from fistulas, caused by gang rapes or implements used to violate them. Boys have to learn to live without their hands, hacked off so they can't pick up a gun. Women give birth to babies with the faces of their attackers. Schools are destroyed. Industry and agriculture cease. Suffering is manifest in all its forms.
I look at my child, my husband, my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends, my neighbors, my self. I realize that these people suffering around the world are the same as the people in my home, my family, and my community. These people are members of our family and they need our help. Governments, armies, police, political stability, economic health, education, and health care are the elements needed to stop the criminals, the militias, or the monsters wearing human skins. But we can help our families. We can help our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers. Even with our shrinking pocketbooks and tighter budgets, we can help. We can give to charities and organizations that build hospitals, build schools, teach skills, provide counseling, and foster hope. We can volunteer our time to bring attention to the ongoing atrocities. We can stand up when others cannot. We can speak when others are silenced. We can save our families. We can build our future.
Amnesty International
Doctors Without Borders
Women for Women International
Campaign to End Fistula
The Polaris Project
There are so many more organizations trying to help and so many more people who need help. It starts by choosing just one and putting my two cents where they are needed most.
I look at my child, my husband, my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, my nieces, my nephews, my friends, my neighbors, my self. I realize that these people suffering around the world are the same as the people in my home, my family, and my community. These people are members of our family and they need our help. Governments, armies, police, political stability, economic health, education, and health care are the elements needed to stop the criminals, the militias, or the monsters wearing human skins. But we can help our families. We can help our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters, our mothers and fathers. Even with our shrinking pocketbooks and tighter budgets, we can help. We can give to charities and organizations that build hospitals, build schools, teach skills, provide counseling, and foster hope. We can volunteer our time to bring attention to the ongoing atrocities. We can stand up when others cannot. We can speak when others are silenced. We can save our families. We can build our future.
Amnesty International
Doctors Without Borders
Women for Women International
Campaign to End Fistula
The Polaris Project
There are so many more organizations trying to help and so many more people who need help. It starts by choosing just one and putting my two cents where they are needed most.
Friday, February 27, 2009
A Meaningful Conversation...
Have a conversation with someone you love. Don't select a topic. Don't set an agenda. Don't think about the course of the discussion ahead of time. Don't try to "make a point or "set them straight." Don't talk down to them, at them, or about yourself. Sit down with someone and look them in the eye. Talk to them about everything, anything, or nothing at all. The state of their world, their dreams for their life and future, or an observation of the mundane in their day. They may surprise you with how they see their situation, their vivid imagination, or their wonderful sense of the absurd.
If you have a conversation with your children you will strengthen your bond with them. You will build mutual trust and respect. You will get a glimpse of their perspective and they will get a glimpse of yours. This fosters empathy and compassion. Younger children, even infants, will increase their vocabulary, grasp of context, and deeper meanings beyond just simple labels (bottle, dog, bath, etc...). Older children will be challenged to speak candidly with an adult in a safe environment, building their confidence and their conversational techniques. You may be surprised by what you learn about your children, their abilities, and their opinions. With adult children, you may discover a new friendship and sense of pride in someone you've always known but not necessarily understood.
If you have a conversation with your parents you may find the person behind the label of "Mom" or "Dad." These are the people who suffer your judgement, condescension, and exasperation. These are also the people who want more for you than they want for themselves. However many imperfections or transgressions you can count against them, they love you the best that they know how. You may discover that you have never really seen the person in front of you, their dreams, their sacrifices, their pain, their problems, their humor, or their worth.
Couples can remember why they stayed up all night talking when they first met. Friends can share more than jokes. Neighbors can share more than fences. Family members can share more than blood. We are a social species, defining ourselves by our relationships to others. Weave the tapestry of your life with the most fulfilling relationships you can and you will be able to wrap yourself in their warmth and love to the end of your days.
If you have a conversation with your children you will strengthen your bond with them. You will build mutual trust and respect. You will get a glimpse of their perspective and they will get a glimpse of yours. This fosters empathy and compassion. Younger children, even infants, will increase their vocabulary, grasp of context, and deeper meanings beyond just simple labels (bottle, dog, bath, etc...). Older children will be challenged to speak candidly with an adult in a safe environment, building their confidence and their conversational techniques. You may be surprised by what you learn about your children, their abilities, and their opinions. With adult children, you may discover a new friendship and sense of pride in someone you've always known but not necessarily understood.
If you have a conversation with your parents you may find the person behind the label of "Mom" or "Dad." These are the people who suffer your judgement, condescension, and exasperation. These are also the people who want more for you than they want for themselves. However many imperfections or transgressions you can count against them, they love you the best that they know how. You may discover that you have never really seen the person in front of you, their dreams, their sacrifices, their pain, their problems, their humor, or their worth.
Couples can remember why they stayed up all night talking when they first met. Friends can share more than jokes. Neighbors can share more than fences. Family members can share more than blood. We are a social species, defining ourselves by our relationships to others. Weave the tapestry of your life with the most fulfilling relationships you can and you will be able to wrap yourself in their warmth and love to the end of your days.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Gardens are good...
Money is tight... and getting tighter. Relationships are strained. Nerves are fried. There is a persistent, pit-of-the-stomach tension that fills the air like fog. Make a small but meaningful investment. Buy some seeds.
Whether they are 1 acre or 1 pot... gardens fulfill the promise of bounty. Your work will be rewarded. Your time will be well spent. Your investment will bear fruit... literally. This sort of return cannot be guaranteed by the stock market, your retirement account, or your home equity.
When you feel insecure and on shaky ground, plant the garden. Dig into the ground and ground yourself. When your mind is plagued by doubts and worries, weed the garden. Every weed pulled will take a bad thought with it. When you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, tend your garden. Pruning the suckers and training the vines get you one step closer to the harvest, one step closer to better times. As your garden grows so will your sense of well-being. There are other benefits to be sure: healthy and inexpensive food; great exercise; lower blood pressure.
Obviously, gardens aren't the solution to every problem but they help. Too often times like these leave us broken, lost, crawling into bottles, numbing ourselves in front of screens, or distancing ourselves from loved ones. Gardens give us purpose. They give us hope. They give us the joy of anticipation versus the gloom of foreboding. They give us an opportunity to escape without being destructive or "wasting time." They give us the chance to get dirty and laugh with our friends and family.
If you've never done it before you can start small. A pot, some soil, a few seeds... soon you could be cutting beautiful daisies, snipping delicious basil, picking succulent tomatoes, and smiling. We could all use more reasons to smile.
Whether they are 1 acre or 1 pot... gardens fulfill the promise of bounty. Your work will be rewarded. Your time will be well spent. Your investment will bear fruit... literally. This sort of return cannot be guaranteed by the stock market, your retirement account, or your home equity.
When you feel insecure and on shaky ground, plant the garden. Dig into the ground and ground yourself. When your mind is plagued by doubts and worries, weed the garden. Every weed pulled will take a bad thought with it. When you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, tend your garden. Pruning the suckers and training the vines get you one step closer to the harvest, one step closer to better times. As your garden grows so will your sense of well-being. There are other benefits to be sure: healthy and inexpensive food; great exercise; lower blood pressure.
Obviously, gardens aren't the solution to every problem but they help. Too often times like these leave us broken, lost, crawling into bottles, numbing ourselves in front of screens, or distancing ourselves from loved ones. Gardens give us purpose. They give us hope. They give us the joy of anticipation versus the gloom of foreboding. They give us an opportunity to escape without being destructive or "wasting time." They give us the chance to get dirty and laugh with our friends and family.
If you've never done it before you can start small. A pot, some soil, a few seeds... soon you could be cutting beautiful daisies, snipping delicious basil, picking succulent tomatoes, and smiling. We could all use more reasons to smile.
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