Dear God,
Thank you for reminding me, in the smallest of ways, just how big you are. How great your love is, and how much I am loved.
Today, I felt your presence as I sat to eat a beautiful meal a friend had prepared for me. I thought of you as I tasted a tomato, ripe and beautiful from the sun. A tomato my friend shared with me. Simple but sweet.
I felt you today as I made an effort to be appreciative of my husband. To see everything he does for me. He is a gift I can never thank you enough for.
I thank you for friends that get my sense of humor. (South Dakota- woot woot!)
I thank you for my heart, that keeps opening further and further, and trusting more and more.
I thank you for a best friend that will vacation in my city so she can see me.
And I thank you most of all, for my sweet babies. For the smell of shampoo and baby powder. For sweet little souls. For love and smiles.
I thank you also, for the deep sadness that creeps up. For thoughts of Joshua. For loss. For anything that glorifies you, Lord. I thank you for it all.
Love,
Me
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
6 months
Dear Sam,
Six months ago, I was sitting in a hospital room alone, watching bad tv and thinking of you. I laid my hand over your sweet spot and patted you. Your heartrate would go exceedingly high, then down to normal. Over and over. It was as if you knew something big was happening.
And the next day, it did happen. YOU happened. After a traumatic birth, you arrived, face full of bruises. You didn't cry. People rushed in and out. Their faces took the blankness of professionalism, instead of easygoing joy.
I was scared to death. I watched as they finally got you to cry, and as the nurse gave you your first feeding- glucose and formula. I was in pain and, frankly, angry that nothing had gone as I wanted it to. I collapsed into dreamless sleep.
But the next morning I went to you. I sat in the rocker in the nursery and put you to my breast. You latched on fiercely, and laid your hand over my heart. I gasped so deeply with the love I felt for you I was sure they could hear it for miles. I looked up, expecting the world to have stopped to notice my joy. Nobody paid me an attention in the nursery- they have seen it all, I'm sure. But sweet angel, I was rocked to the core with love for you. It was as if angels, rainbows, and butterflies all occupied the same space around us. It was magical.
And as much as I loved you then, I love you more now. One look at you and I am lost. Your smile is heaven. The scent of your neck, sweeter than perfume. Your disposition is so bubbly and happy. You are a true loudmouth- yelling ALL THE TIME. But it's a happy "Looka meeeee" kinda yell.
If you were dessert, you would be cheesecake. You are edible, squishy, and sweet from head to toe. You continue to grow in ways your father and I can only laugh at. Everyday we pick you up from the crib and your pajamas are suddenly too small. You kick and flail your arms as if you could fly. You inch and roll all over the house. You have two words- "Hi" and "Mama". You adore your sister and she makes you giggle until you lose your breath.
You are sunny. You are bright. You steal my breath a thousand times a day. I watch you sleep, and I want to never stop. You give me such joy, such such joy. I am in constant wonder and awe that God has graced me with you- my beautiful boy.
I wish many things for you, Samuel, but mostly I hope you hold onto your joy. I hope you keep happiness always. I hope your sunny face never loses it's light. I hope you always smile with joy when I peek over your crib rail every morning. I hope you keep growing and growing, even if I do worry about how I will ever feed you when you are a teenager. And I hope, beyond all things, that your family is always a refuge for you. That peace is yours in these walls. That you love us as deeply as we love you.
I could go on and on, my son, but the truth is that words can never adequately describe how I feel for you. You are simply my boy. My sweetest of sweets. I love you, adore you, and am blessed by you.
Love,
Mama
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Lily
Dear Lily,
For three years you have been by my side. My shadow, my life, my love. You have been my everything. You have given me so much more than I have ever given to you.
But yesterday it occured to me that soon I will have to let you out into the world. The world that may not look upon your face and love every single thing about you. A world that may not appreciate your joyful heart, yourchattery lips, your sweetest of souls.
A world that will see you simply as another person. A student. A face in the crowd. A child to care for, and not out of love...but obligation.
I don't want to give you up yet, my sweet love. But it is drawing near. Separation is good and healthy.
My head knows this. But my heart says otherwise.
Someday I won't be there when you fall. I won't see somebody fling their cruel words on you. I won't be able to scoop you up and soothe the hurt.
You will be on your own.
So when that day comes, my sweet love, know this: I will always be here when you get home. The door will always open, and your mama will always be there. I will let you fall apart. I will let you tell me all of your troubles. I will listen and love you and appreciate you...even when others do not.
I cannot prevent the hurt from coming. It happens to us all, my love. Hurt feelings, cruelty, sadness. I wish I could keep you here forever, in this little bubble of love that is our home.
But even as the world contains hurt, it also contains joy. You will have friends and laugh and find wonder out there. You will learn and grow and gain confidence. You will find others who look at your beautiful face and see you for who you are, and love you for who you are.
But always remember, I have carried you. I have held you. I have loved you and known you. I will be the strongest force of love this earth will hold for you, my precious precious daughter. Only heaven can contain a love stronger than this.
So when you need to be seen, to be loved, and to be treasured, come to me. When the world is cruel and you don't understand it, come to me. When you need a hand to hold in silence, a strong presence at your back, arms to wrap you up, and words to bring you back to joy, come to me.
I may have to send you out into the world, but I will also shelter you from it.
Love,
Mama
For three years you have been by my side. My shadow, my life, my love. You have been my everything. You have given me so much more than I have ever given to you.
But yesterday it occured to me that soon I will have to let you out into the world. The world that may not look upon your face and love every single thing about you. A world that may not appreciate your joyful heart, yourchattery lips, your sweetest of souls.
A world that will see you simply as another person. A student. A face in the crowd. A child to care for, and not out of love...but obligation.
I don't want to give you up yet, my sweet love. But it is drawing near. Separation is good and healthy.
My head knows this. But my heart says otherwise.
Someday I won't be there when you fall. I won't see somebody fling their cruel words on you. I won't be able to scoop you up and soothe the hurt.
You will be on your own.
So when that day comes, my sweet love, know this: I will always be here when you get home. The door will always open, and your mama will always be there. I will let you fall apart. I will let you tell me all of your troubles. I will listen and love you and appreciate you...even when others do not.
I cannot prevent the hurt from coming. It happens to us all, my love. Hurt feelings, cruelty, sadness. I wish I could keep you here forever, in this little bubble of love that is our home.
But even as the world contains hurt, it also contains joy. You will have friends and laugh and find wonder out there. You will learn and grow and gain confidence. You will find others who look at your beautiful face and see you for who you are, and love you for who you are.
But always remember, I have carried you. I have held you. I have loved you and known you. I will be the strongest force of love this earth will hold for you, my precious precious daughter. Only heaven can contain a love stronger than this.
So when you need to be seen, to be loved, and to be treasured, come to me. When the world is cruel and you don't understand it, come to me. When you need a hand to hold in silence, a strong presence at your back, arms to wrap you up, and words to bring you back to joy, come to me.
I may have to send you out into the world, but I will also shelter you from it.
Love,
Mama
I will, for you
I have never allowed my heart
to bend to the will of my spirit
to hurt until the hurt
turns to joy
but
I will
for you
I have never given myself
entirely to another soul
loved without thought
given until I break
but
I will
for you
I have never
gazed for hours at beauty
counted toes lined up like ears of corn
dimples on cheeks and hands
and wept over a smile
but
I will
for you
I have never opened my own chest
allowed myself to earn heartbreak
carved love from my soul
created fire from ashes
but
I will
for you
And in the end
it is you who will look into my eyes
and reflect my love back to me
I have never waited for this moment
never stuck around long enough to reach it
but
I will
for you
to bend to the will of my spirit
to hurt until the hurt
turns to joy
but
I will
for you
I have never given myself
entirely to another soul
loved without thought
given until I break
but
I will
for you
I have never
gazed for hours at beauty
counted toes lined up like ears of corn
dimples on cheeks and hands
and wept over a smile
but
I will
for you
I have never opened my own chest
allowed myself to earn heartbreak
carved love from my soul
created fire from ashes
but
I will
for you
And in the end
it is you who will look into my eyes
and reflect my love back to me
I have never waited for this moment
never stuck around long enough to reach it
but
I will
for you
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The dance
My last post only went an inch deep into what I was feeling. For the past month, I have been struggling mightily with the sucking vortex of depression. It has been hanging like a leaden cloud over me, and I have been trying to espcape it. I have been two steps ahead of it, if that. Wily Coyote and the Roadrunner have nothing on me and my depression. Beep beep.
Last week, my body started showing signs of this marathon of psychological running I was doing. Stomachaches, headaches, a general feeling of fatigue. Being able to lie down and sleep at any moment of the day. Being awakened at night and not being able to return to sleep. Thoughts that are running, running, running.
This is not new. I have always battled depression. I have always been Eyeore. I have tried with herculean effort to push the dark away and let in the light. And for the past few years, it has worked.
But this last month has been hard. If I had to pinpoint a reason, I could not. My father's hospitialization began it all, yes, but then along with the anger from that situation comes the spiral of thoughts...all too maudlin and melancoly to record here.
And the past two weeks, the longing for someone to care for me has been wrenching. The need for a mother, for memories of a mother, for a tangible hand to hold or somebody who is biologically chained to me, and therefore HAS to listen to my trouble has been overwhelming. I don't ask for help with my sadness or pain, because I want to be neither pitied or to burden anyone else with this mess I am.
Getting off the plane here in StMaarten, I heard a voice clear as a bell speak in my mind. "Let it all go, now. Be HERE, in this place. Put pain behind you. Enjoy."
And I felt that voice into my toes. This has always been difficult for me. I go through life with a running list in my head of what needs to be done. I am always on the hunt for what it is in me that needs to be fixed or uprooted. My most profound prayer to God, te one indured with the most meaning and emotion, is "Fix me, please."
So to just be? Mightaswell ask Michaelangelo to fingerpaint. I have made busy-ness and self improvement my Sistine Chapel, friends. A monument that screams "HEY WORLD, I AM TOTALLY EFFED UP."
But here I am. As I write this, Sam lies net to me on a big king sized bed. His lips move, nuring in his sleep, or as my in-laws say "eating rice with the angels". I can see the bay with it's splendid colors right outside the doorway. The light flashes silver, turqiouse, blue, green. Boats lie moored, swinging back and forth together like lovers. Palm trees graze just the bottom of our balcony. I can hear children calling, laughing, from the pool below.
The first night we were here, my mother in law made me bascilla and roz (peas and rice), just because I love it. She served it to me without a word. No boasting. No calling attention to it. Just put it on my plate with a smile. And in my mind the voice whispered "THIS is love." And I FELT it. I ate, and was nourished, body and soul.
My mother in law makes me tea, because she knows I love it. She asks me, everytime, how much milk and how much sugar. She wants me to know that she WANTS to do this for me, to give this to me. She wants me to be nourished. She wants me to be peaceful and know that I am cared for. And in my mind the voice says "You have a mother."
My daughter will only know one grandfather in her life. The idea used to upset me- but just now, as I watched Lily sit on her Gidu's lap and talk to him, taking his hat off, putting it on, again and again...the voice said "It is enough for her. This one man, this one grandfather. It is enough".
And so here it is- God chose every aspect of my life. He chose my childhood, and he chose my adulthood. He chose my pain and he chose my joy. He had laid it out before me. I need only walk through it, relying on Him to know more than I know. I need to remeber what was before, because it is important. I need to remember the valley, and the darkness, the tears and the lonliness...because they are vital to who I am. But I also need to open my eyes to the joy. To the people He has placed, lovingly and with great care, into my life.
I am like the water here. I am changing. The tide comes in, and pulls out what is no longer useful. The tide returns, bring new life and vitality.
I may dance with depression again one day- after all, biology is biology. But in those times I can remember THIS time, when my eyes were open, when I saw clearly.
I have a family. I have a mother, and a father. I was not born to them, I was brought to them. They were a gift to me. There is no darkness that can diminish this blessing.
Last week, my body started showing signs of this marathon of psychological running I was doing. Stomachaches, headaches, a general feeling of fatigue. Being able to lie down and sleep at any moment of the day. Being awakened at night and not being able to return to sleep. Thoughts that are running, running, running.
This is not new. I have always battled depression. I have always been Eyeore. I have tried with herculean effort to push the dark away and let in the light. And for the past few years, it has worked.
But this last month has been hard. If I had to pinpoint a reason, I could not. My father's hospitialization began it all, yes, but then along with the anger from that situation comes the spiral of thoughts...all too maudlin and melancoly to record here.
And the past two weeks, the longing for someone to care for me has been wrenching. The need for a mother, for memories of a mother, for a tangible hand to hold or somebody who is biologically chained to me, and therefore HAS to listen to my trouble has been overwhelming. I don't ask for help with my sadness or pain, because I want to be neither pitied or to burden anyone else with this mess I am.
Getting off the plane here in StMaarten, I heard a voice clear as a bell speak in my mind. "Let it all go, now. Be HERE, in this place. Put pain behind you. Enjoy."
And I felt that voice into my toes. This has always been difficult for me. I go through life with a running list in my head of what needs to be done. I am always on the hunt for what it is in me that needs to be fixed or uprooted. My most profound prayer to God, te one indured with the most meaning and emotion, is "Fix me, please."
So to just be? Mightaswell ask Michaelangelo to fingerpaint. I have made busy-ness and self improvement my Sistine Chapel, friends. A monument that screams "HEY WORLD, I AM TOTALLY EFFED UP."
But here I am. As I write this, Sam lies net to me on a big king sized bed. His lips move, nuring in his sleep, or as my in-laws say "eating rice with the angels". I can see the bay with it's splendid colors right outside the doorway. The light flashes silver, turqiouse, blue, green. Boats lie moored, swinging back and forth together like lovers. Palm trees graze just the bottom of our balcony. I can hear children calling, laughing, from the pool below.
The first night we were here, my mother in law made me bascilla and roz (peas and rice), just because I love it. She served it to me without a word. No boasting. No calling attention to it. Just put it on my plate with a smile. And in my mind the voice whispered "THIS is love." And I FELT it. I ate, and was nourished, body and soul.
My mother in law makes me tea, because she knows I love it. She asks me, everytime, how much milk and how much sugar. She wants me to know that she WANTS to do this for me, to give this to me. She wants me to be nourished. She wants me to be peaceful and know that I am cared for. And in my mind the voice says "You have a mother."
My daughter will only know one grandfather in her life. The idea used to upset me- but just now, as I watched Lily sit on her Gidu's lap and talk to him, taking his hat off, putting it on, again and again...the voice said "It is enough for her. This one man, this one grandfather. It is enough".
And so here it is- God chose every aspect of my life. He chose my childhood, and he chose my adulthood. He chose my pain and he chose my joy. He had laid it out before me. I need only walk through it, relying on Him to know more than I know. I need to remeber what was before, because it is important. I need to remember the valley, and the darkness, the tears and the lonliness...because they are vital to who I am. But I also need to open my eyes to the joy. To the people He has placed, lovingly and with great care, into my life.
I am like the water here. I am changing. The tide comes in, and pulls out what is no longer useful. The tide returns, bring new life and vitality.
I may dance with depression again one day- after all, biology is biology. But in those times I can remember THIS time, when my eyes were open, when I saw clearly.
I have a family. I have a mother, and a father. I was not born to them, I was brought to them. They were a gift to me. There is no darkness that can diminish this blessing.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Hobbled
The pool is full of children, adults perched on the side, sitting in chairs. Everyone is laughing and enjoying their friday night. My daughter is throwing herself off the side with abandon, opening her mouth wide to laugh.
I am nursing Sam. I look down into his big brown eyes, I stroke his hair. Across the pool a woman I have met only a few times crouches near the stair and calls to somebody out of my eyeline. As I watch, her mother brings her a towel, wrapping her in it and rubbing her arms. She then pushes her hair off of her face. They both smile. The tenderness can only be between a mother and her child- even is said child is in her 30's with children of her own.
And it punches me in the gut.
Why did I get left behind in this, God? Why did you choose to hobble me? Why is my mother not here to bring me a towel, to play with my children?
Yes, I know there is a reason. I was chosen for this life. God knows why...and most of the time that is enough. Most of the time my heart is guarded, and I can look away from a scene like that before it gets to me.
But sometimes it hurts. And sometimes it has to hurt, or I wouldn't be human. And tonight, it hurts.
Yes, I know. I have 2 great kids. I have a good life. I have great friends.
But sometimes it just doesn't matter.
I want my mother. Not who she was, but the idea of who she could have been. I want her here, healthy. I want my kids to see her and to love her. I want, I want, I want.
I know this was chosen for me. Maybe I needed to live through my childhood to be a good mother to my kids. Maybe it created in me some essential quality that will help my children be better people. Maybe it was essential to make me who I am. Great suffering creates great character. But sometimes, I want to wish it all away. I want to change it all. Sometimes I wish it could all be different.
I wish somebody would wrap me up, look at me, and stroke my hair. I wish to be mothered. It's not something I have ever known. I still mourn for it.
But here it is. I am 33. My time to be mothered is over. My time to be a mother is here. And I love my kids. And I want so much to be whole for them. I am not. I will always be hobbled and wounded, and I will always want beyond what I have.
But I keep trying. I keep moving forward. Even now, in the moments when the pain overflows my ability to keep it at bay.
So here's to tomorrow...when I will wake up. I will take my children to the bathtub. We will play. And when I lift them out I will wrap them up. I will look into their eyes. And I will show them the love I am wishing for tonight.
I am nursing Sam. I look down into his big brown eyes, I stroke his hair. Across the pool a woman I have met only a few times crouches near the stair and calls to somebody out of my eyeline. As I watch, her mother brings her a towel, wrapping her in it and rubbing her arms. She then pushes her hair off of her face. They both smile. The tenderness can only be between a mother and her child- even is said child is in her 30's with children of her own.
And it punches me in the gut.
Why did I get left behind in this, God? Why did you choose to hobble me? Why is my mother not here to bring me a towel, to play with my children?
Yes, I know there is a reason. I was chosen for this life. God knows why...and most of the time that is enough. Most of the time my heart is guarded, and I can look away from a scene like that before it gets to me.
But sometimes it hurts. And sometimes it has to hurt, or I wouldn't be human. And tonight, it hurts.
Yes, I know. I have 2 great kids. I have a good life. I have great friends.
But sometimes it just doesn't matter.
I want my mother. Not who she was, but the idea of who she could have been. I want her here, healthy. I want my kids to see her and to love her. I want, I want, I want.
I know this was chosen for me. Maybe I needed to live through my childhood to be a good mother to my kids. Maybe it created in me some essential quality that will help my children be better people. Maybe it was essential to make me who I am. Great suffering creates great character. But sometimes, I want to wish it all away. I want to change it all. Sometimes I wish it could all be different.
I wish somebody would wrap me up, look at me, and stroke my hair. I wish to be mothered. It's not something I have ever known. I still mourn for it.
But here it is. I am 33. My time to be mothered is over. My time to be a mother is here. And I love my kids. And I want so much to be whole for them. I am not. I will always be hobbled and wounded, and I will always want beyond what I have.
But I keep trying. I keep moving forward. Even now, in the moments when the pain overflows my ability to keep it at bay.
So here's to tomorrow...when I will wake up. I will take my children to the bathtub. We will play. And when I lift them out I will wrap them up. I will look into their eyes. And I will show them the love I am wishing for tonight.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
An open letter to myself
Dear Me@17,
Stop worrying so much about what you look like. You are curvy and beautiful. Stop tugging your shirts down to hide your hips. Stop wearing jeans in the heat of summer to hide your legs. Love yourself.
Dear Me@18,
Don't marry him.
Dear Me@19,
I told you not to marry him.
Dear Me@21,
So, now look at yourself. Miserable. Fat. Hurting. You really should have listened to your instincts. Put down the pasta and cake and figure stuff out. And, go to college for goodness sake- you are too smart to be doing what you are doing.
Dear Me@23,
You never listen.
Dear Me@26,
Good for you. You finally left him. Packed up a truck and bolted. Now your life can begin. Go on a diet, clean up your act and your mind. Talk to God.
Oh, and wear sunblock and moisturize. Trust me.
Dear Me@28,
Yes, those are crows feet and wrinkles. See letter to 26 yr old self.
Dear Me@29,
Yes, you can trust him. Marry him. Love him. Change your world and yourself. Give God a big high-5 for the blessings. Keep going to therapy. Keep working on casting light into the darkness.
Dear Me@30,
Hold tight. She's due any day. No, you won't blow up. Stop whining.
Dear Me@31,
Didn't I tell you to moisturize? Sheesh.
Dear Me@33,
Right now it is as it should be. Completion of dreams. Love in abundance. Dark clouds scattered, umbrella in hand. You are so strong. You are so good. God loves you. You love God. Go and LIVE.
Oh, and don't forget to moisturize.
Love,
You
Stop worrying so much about what you look like. You are curvy and beautiful. Stop tugging your shirts down to hide your hips. Stop wearing jeans in the heat of summer to hide your legs. Love yourself.
Dear Me@18,
Don't marry him.
Dear Me@19,
I told you not to marry him.
Dear Me@21,
So, now look at yourself. Miserable. Fat. Hurting. You really should have listened to your instincts. Put down the pasta and cake and figure stuff out. And, go to college for goodness sake- you are too smart to be doing what you are doing.
Dear Me@23,
You never listen.
Dear Me@26,
Good for you. You finally left him. Packed up a truck and bolted. Now your life can begin. Go on a diet, clean up your act and your mind. Talk to God.
Oh, and wear sunblock and moisturize. Trust me.
Dear Me@28,
Yes, those are crows feet and wrinkles. See letter to 26 yr old self.
Dear Me@29,
Yes, you can trust him. Marry him. Love him. Change your world and yourself. Give God a big high-5 for the blessings. Keep going to therapy. Keep working on casting light into the darkness.
Dear Me@30,
Hold tight. She's due any day. No, you won't blow up. Stop whining.
Dear Me@31,
Didn't I tell you to moisturize? Sheesh.
Dear Me@33,
Right now it is as it should be. Completion of dreams. Love in abundance. Dark clouds scattered, umbrella in hand. You are so strong. You are so good. God loves you. You love God. Go and LIVE.
Oh, and don't forget to moisturize.
Love,
You
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