the sanctity of things that wil never be

sometimes the bitter irony of life is almost enough to choke on completely. today is "sanctity of life sunday" (a day of action for those who are "pro-life"). today i am miscarrying my baby.

i have never been strongly in either the "pro life" or "pro choice" camp. they both seem poorly named, to me. neither side seems to even see, let alone grasp, the complexities of the issues. i've always believed something along the lines of life beginning when the pregnancy stops being called an "embryo" and starts being called a "fetus". and i don't believe that terminating a pregnancy is always wrong, but i think it sometimes is. beyond that, i'm not sure.

what i am sure of is that even though my pregnancy was only in the embryo stage, even though there was no heartbeat yet (technically it wasn't even an embryo because the cells were faulty...just a tiny clump of tissue that couldn't become anything more), even though i can only refer to it as an it, it was still my baby. i only knew it existed for a week, and i was so immensely in love with it for that week. i know that it was something precious and beautiful, perhaps sacred. i know that i miss it. i miss the possibility of it, and the hope, and the excitement, and the plans. i miss what we could have been as a family of four.

knowing the depths of the ache that is in my heart today makes me feel for women who are in the position to make an impossible choice. it is so very hard to lose a baby randomly to miscarriage. i think it would be harder still to have to choose to lose it.

losing the dream that was my baby today doesn't really change my views about abortion. if anything, it further complicates things. i try to console myself with the science of it, and the fact that it was only a few hundred cells - which my head truly does believe. but my heart yells "but it was a few hundred cells that i loved, and that i would have jumped in front of a train for". so maybe the "choice" camp is medically right, and it's not a baby at all, but maybe god's heart still hurts like this every time. and maybe the "life" camp would get further in talking about the sanctity of life if they mourned with the mothers who choose to end pregnancies, rather than calling them monsters and denying their grief.

because maybe a tiny clump of tissue is sacred whether it will become a baby or not, is alive or not, simply because it is part of the beautiful and complicated world that we are all a part of and connected to. maybe we all should be more concerned with the sanctity of life on the grand scale, not just with its tiny complexities. maybe instead of sermons and rallies about the sanctity of one facet of life, we should spend a lot more time thinking and talking about, and acting in accord with, the sanctity of god...which might mean loving mothers who make hard choices as much as we love bundles of cells or fetuses or babies.

a lot of the "sanctity of life" posts i've seen today have only made the loss of my baby feel cheap. like the dream of life that i lost is being coopted by a cause. no one else gets to say if my baby was alive or not, real or not, sacred or not, because no one else carried it and loved it. and if i feel that way, having lost my baby in an "acceptable" way, i know that it must be much worse for those mothers who have lost their babies in "unacceptable" ways. it seems counterintuitive that i would feel more solidarity with them than with those who believe that life starts at conception. i think i simply feel close now to anyone who has lost a baby, no matter how or why. do the how's and why's really matter to grief? i think anyone who truly valued the sanctity of life would grieve with all of us equally.

it feels good to write. i have gone back and forth over whether to post this...because not a lot of people even knew i was pregnant, and because it is a level of intimacy that i usually reserve for my real/non-blog life, and because my heart is so raw that it is hard to breathe. but i'm going to post this because i believe so strongly in the sanctity of life on the whole, and that grief must be spoken and honored. and mostly because i do not want anyone else or any cause or side to speak for my baby and my loss. i'm the only voice it will ever have, and it deserved to be known and talked about, even though - and because - it was only a few hundred cells that will never be.

the buddha got nothing on me

after i wrote that last post, i had a really good day yesterday. no toddler meltdowns and no mommy meltdowns. i had an unexpected burst of energy and got some cleaning done that i'd been putting off, and even cooked a real dinner. as the evening came on, i was feeling unblocked and optimistic, and looking forward to a night of peaceful blogging and hubby time. i thought "how wonderful that just writing about my frustration made it go away!".

and then haven wouldn't go to bed, or stay asleep if i got her to bed. i would nurse her and rock her like usual, and she would fall asleep in my arms like usual, and then every time i tried to lay her down in the crib her little eyes would pop right open. it felt personal. obviously, she heard my thoughts about wanting a quiet night of mom time, and she was trying to screw things up (i should note that a certain impending time of the month might possibly be influencing my attitude). all of the frustration came rushing back.
and then she started to spike a fever, and the frustration morphed into guilt. of course she couldn't sleep when she felt bad. what kind of mother resents a sick baby?

so my peaceful evening of blogging and hanging out one-on-one with my husband turned into a long night of administering motrin (let me just tell you how much my girl hates taking medicine), cool baths, and rectal temperature taking (which makes medicine taking look like a party). somehow we had managed to skate by for 18 whole months without taking a rectal temperature, but the oral thermometer was broken and it had to be done. we debated the emergency room. we called the mother-in-law who is a nurse, at 1:30am. and all the while i wallowed in mommy-guilt and swallowed my frustration.

and then something magic happened, as it sometimes does.
that zen thing kicked in.

somewhere between the rectal temperature taking and the next attempt at sleep, i just accepted it. i just accepted that it was a shitty night for all involved, and that there was nothing i could actually do about it so might as well give in. i accepted that i was frustrated and tired and disappointed. i accepted that i felt helpless to make haven feel better. i accepted that she might stay sick for days and we might spend more nights like this, and that's just the way it is. i let go of what i thought i deserved, and how i wanted things to work, and decided to take life how it comes rather than being angry that it doesn't come the way i planned.

baby girl is still sick, which means tonight's long-needed dinner out with friends is probably off. she is watching mind-numbing children's shows on netflix while i blog (there goes any hope left of a world's greatest mom award). there are no clean dishes, but i will likely only wash enough to eat lunch on and leave the rest. i still haven't had mom time or hubby time in days. the floor is covered in balls that have been dropped - in fact, i don't think i have any in the air at all.

and it's ok. because that's just how it is.

stalled at the start

writing the first blog post of the new year has been on my to-do list since it became the new year. it's a bit daunting, actually. there are a lot of things i want to write about - intentions for the new year, the terror of raising a daughter in a deeply sexist culture, political musings - all sorts of things. but i've been stuck. not writers block, per se, more like life block? is that a real thing?

haven is now 18 months old and i realized that i've been physically attached to another person 18 hours a day for a year and a half. that is a lot just in itself. and life has been more than usually hectic of late, and hubby is working nights again which puts a strain on everything, and i'm always restless in the winter, and it all leaves me feeling weird and blocked. makes it hard to write those pithy blogs (i hate when real life gets in the way of blogging!).

i know in my rational mind, and in my core, that being a full-time homemaker and mom is what i really want. i know that it is what is truly important to me. i know that if i went back to school right now or found a job i would deeply regret it and feel like i was missing out on what is truly meaningful in my life. i know that i chose this life, and chose it for good reasons which i still absolutely believe. but.... but i am still restless.
knowing that this job of mothering is the best one i could have does not make it easier. knowing that i will have time when haven is older to make art and learn to can and finally read books again and go on dates with my husband does not make it easier right now to not do all those things. and there is so much useless, irrational guilt wrapped up in feeling so blocked and dissatisfied right now. as if admitting how hard it is to devote everything to being a mom makes me a bad mom. it's ridiculous, but that doesn't mean i don't feel it. i have chosen the hardest job i could possibly choose, and it is just hard sometimes.

i want to be a great mom, and have a spotless house, and challenge myself creatively, and be an attentive and supportive spouse, and write fabulous and thought provoking blogs. and i can't do all of those things at once. it is a constant juggling act, where more than one ball is always being dropped and i have to choose on a sometimes hourly basis which one to let hit the ground first. and that gets frustrating, and tiring. it leaves me feeling blocked.

i wanted to start 2012 with a post about my resolutions for the coming year, but right now it takes all of my resolve to just keep doing everything that needs to be done. today, i resolve to change diapers, and load the dishwasher, and make dinner. i'm starting to realize the very grown-up truth that just because i am doing what is important, and even what i love, does not mean i will always be happy doing it. isn't that just a bitch?

maybe this does touch on my intentions for the year, because i want to be more honest, and more understanding with myself. i want to cut myself some slack this year, and let myself feel whatever i feel for as long as i feel it. there are moments when i do that, when i reach a weird kind of zen in the midst of the chaos and just accept life as it comes to me. right now i feel like giving up, but i know that there is a fine line between giving up and zen-like acceptance. admitting that i want to give up is actually the first step in getting to the acceptance. it feels good to acknowledge it, but that doesn't mean i'm there yet.

there is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose under heaven. and some seasons are just crap.
so i'm going to work on accepting that i am not, and will not be, perfect. fuck. i really hate not being perfect.

happy new year.

Dear Troy

Dear Troy

Tonight they killed you

Like they hung your grandfathers from the trees

Like they beat your fathers in the streets

Saying “This is justice”

And I don’t think the word will ever get clean again

In America we talk about fair trials

And reasonable doubt

Until we are blue

Until you were blue, and cold

That officer’s widow is still a widow

The hole he left still gapes

Unsutured by your death

And twice as wide now

It is a hole in all of us

Tonight they killed you

And we are less with your passing

Less free

Less ourselves

Smaller in the face of darkness

But we will shrug tomorrow that what’s done is done

And we did all we could

Didn’t we?

You should have seen our facebooks, Troy

for those who "can never find a good guy"

i had a list, growing up, of the qualities i was looking for in the perfect mate. most girls i know have/had such a list at some point. some keep it secretly in a diary, some bust it out to compare with the lists of others, and for some it is less formal - they say they are looking for someone who is like some character from a book or person they look up to, which implies a list of characteristics. now, when i had my list i thought it was a pretty modest and sensible one. honesty and sense of humor were on it, but income wasn't. height was on it, but that seemed only reasonable to want someone as tall as me. and every time i dated someone or considered dating someone, the list was in the back of my mind and i was taking mental notes (often subconsciously) and seeing how my date measured against the list. i figured that when i found someone who checked all the boxes, i would know i had found "the one". and i often lamented that it was so hard to find someone who met even a majority of my qualifications.
the best decision i have ever made was to ditch my list.

when i got rid of the list, i could finally start seeing the men i dated as individual and complex humans, rather than as potential checkmarks on a list. i spent years lamenting that it was so hard to find a guy who would see the real me in all my diversity, but at the same time i was refusing to see the real them. there is a lot of talk about how men objectify women, but i think there needs to be more talk about how women objectify men. women want to be taken as a whole, but want to choose a man based on certain ideal characteristics. it is common for men to physically objectify women, but it is just as common - perhaps more common because it is so socially acceptable - for women to emotionally objectify men. i'm not saying that it's bad to want to be with someone who has similar values and goals, but focusing too hard on ideal qualities often means missing the whole picture and the individual qualities a mate may bring to the table. if you think of your absolute favorite ideal meal to eat and then go trying to find a restaurant that serves exactly that meal, you'll never find it. you'll go hungry, and miss out on an amazing array of good food. obviously that's a very simple metaphor, but the concept is the same. if you already know in your head what the "perfect mate" is, you'll never find that in real life and will miss out on love.

i said for years that i didn't want to marry someone shorter than me. a few months after i tossed my list, i met the love of my life and the best man i have ever met. my incredible husband is 5" shorter than me, and only a few months before we met i wouldn't have given him the time of day and would have totally missed out on love. there were lots of small things where on the surface it didn't seem like he matched up with my list. but when i lost the list i was able to see past the surface, and to get to know him as a unique and complex human. in hindsight, he does have all the really important qualities i was looking for - he is honest and funny and kind and hard working and places a high importance on family and knows where he wants to go in life - but if i'd had my list in mind, i would never have gotten down to see those layers. and, the more i got to know him, the more individual qualities i saw in him that i would never have thought to put on a list but which made up his amazing whole that i now cannot live without.

i guess all of this is to say that if you are single and lamenting not being able to find "a good guy", i would urge you to stop and think for a minute. if your definition of a good guy includes someone who will love you for you, then you have to start by letting go of abstract, ideal qualities and start getting to know guys for who they really are. you'll probably be surprised how many good guys you find when you take the time to get to know them without your list in mind. let go of the agenda, and start looking at guys as real human beings rather than as potential list fulfillers. you will probably find what you're looking for. just my two cents.


*the gendered language in this post was simply the easiest way for me to write, since i write from the perspective of a straight female. but i think you could switch out "guy" and "husband" for "girl" and "partner" and it would still be true.

a confession

in target the other day i was passing through the baby clothes and saw an awesome sweater. it had a pirate scull and crossbones on it and was blue and grey. it was so cute and my first thought was "what an awesome sweater, i should get it for haven!". i should go with my first thoughts more often, i think. my second thought was "it's a boy's sweater. too bad girl clothes aren't that cute". i'm ashamed of that second thought, and more ashamed that i listened to it. what exactly is it that makes a sweater a "boy's sweater"? because it was blue and grey? because it was in the boy's section? because an advertiser decided to market it to boys?...i think that last one. some of my favorite sweaters have been "men's" sweaters. does it mean that i'm dressing "like a man"(whatever the hell that means) when i wear them? no. nor do people think that i'm a man when i wear my sweaters. so why should i give in to all that bullshit when it comes to haven? the truth is that my daughter is no more defined by her clothes than i am. too often in the past year i have given in and gone with the "girly" clothes simply because i get frustrated correcting people who call her "he" when she wears any color other than bright pink. i'm ashamed of that frustration and how i've handled it. why should i give a fuck what some stranger assumes about her based on their narrow preconceptions of gender. this weekend i am going back to target to get haven that sweater, because it is awesomely cute. and from now on i am going to buy her clothes based only on awesomeness and functionality, not on what aisle they are in at the store. my daughter will not live in a box. i will continue to encourage her love of cars and dogs as much as her love of dress-up. i will watch myself and make sure that i tell her every day what a beautiful person she is, but not that she looks pretty just because she's in a dress (i already make a point to refer dressing up or wearing makeup as "looking fancy" rather than "looking pretty", but i've noticed a disturbing trend lately of "you're so pretty" being the phrase i say to her most frequently). i love her tutu and all her cute dresses, but i want more than cute dresses for my daughter. society will try to place many limitations on her throughout her life, and i will not be able to protect her from them all. but right now i can at least lay a foundation that will enable her to find her value in her intelligence and spirit and kindness, and not in her looks. i can teach her from the begining that clothing does not make a person, nor do possessions or hobbies. and it can all start with a bitchin pirate sweater. she is going to look so cute in it this fall, worn with jeans and her black sneakers. and if anyone tells me how cute my "son" is, that's fine. i will feel sad for them in my heart that they live in such a small box, but i will not put haven in a similar box just to fit in.

progress

because i'm super proud of my progress, i'm going to post pictures of the rooms that i get totally clean and organized. so here is my progress so far. a lot of rooms are almost done, but these two are finished and sparkly.

nursery:

all the clothes size newborn-4T are organized in bins by size, with the curent size hanging. and all the equipment (basket, bouncer, bucket seat) fits in the closet now instead of around the room.


weeded out a lot of toys, and organized what was left.



dining room:


now the only stuff on the table is what belongs there, and it is usable for eating.

my "helper":


haven has been sorting (and chewing) the storage containers for me.