Coming Home

I pulled into the driveway, placed the car in park and turned off the engine. The kids immediately escaped the confines of their five hour moving-jail, bolting for the house door screaming "Daaaaadddddyyyy".

I sat. The quiet grew as I allowed a slow scan of my surroundings. The grass was greener, the chickens bigger, the yard tidier and the view -- more beautiful than I remembered it being for years. Nothing had really changed, but everything had. Gratitude for the life that I live, have lived, for the last nine years seemed nearly tangible without the myriad of 'responsibilites' vying for position, diminishing the value of our walls, our roof, our land, our little brook running through the back field, our garden, and -of course - our focus on family.

This vacation was so many things. I'm sure the physical details will show themselves both here and at the Bear / Comedian site, supported - no doubt - by adorable pictures and well spun tales. But the true result of this unplugged vacation* was a new grasp on perspective, and - if I'm being honest, a not-so-sudden realization of the not-so-mild addiction my computer represented in my life.

And yes, that last sentence is intentionally in the past tense, not because I think that I can just snap my fingers and erradicate the fact that my blog leads me more than I lead it; but because I am consciously choosing to reverse that fact.

I missed you more than I can say, but I also embraced the unpluggedness of my time. I experienced a familiar rush as I logged on to my google reader, but vow to manage my time better. By that I do not mean that I will do less. I will still participate in Show and Tell, Perfect Moment Mondays, update the Weekly Children's Wisdom Quote, maintain the Share Southern Vermont website, update the Angel Wall twice monthly, and post as the mood and inspiration strikes about my sweet angel daughter, but like the well trained teacher that I am, I will plan for these events allowing myself more time here, in my physical world, tuning-in to my children and being the most attentive parent I can be.

The shift was imminent, not only because it is summer and school is out, but because these are the formative years for my girls. The self-motivated and self-regulated tools they learn now will serve them for the rest of their life, or not.

Case in point...

Comedian (in a serious moment): "Momma, I can't wait to be a grown up."
Me: "Hmmm...what do you see when you look at grown ups?"
Comedian: "Big people who do lots of homework** and say 'wait a minute' a lot"

Vacation: (n) A break from the routines of normal daily life complete with a lack of expectation that allows only good and fun things to happen resulting in a return to perpective of what is important.

Summer: (n) see above definition









* turns out it was tough love not forced celebacy!
** she calls working on the computer 'homework'

The shape of life

Yesterday, I attended a play. My nieces were in it. They were the stars of the show.

Comedian and I arrived early, as I so often do for events and were ushered upstairs to wait with their mother and another friend. Their mother (D.), also featured in the piece linked above, is extraordinary. And, for all that we have lived together (as in been in the same room at the same time and saw the same things...) we have apparantely not seen the same things, or, at the very least, not remembered the same things about the event.

I have just come to realize that. It began at the memory walk...

I could hear her voice in the background, a beautiful sound carrying me as I buzzed with intention from one tent to the next, responding and directing each part of the event. But she remained, in one space, calm and focused, one-with-herself, talking...about me. "What a blessing" I heard, "She allowed me to be part of this", and "I feel so lucky to have been on her journey."

Stunned, I stopped moving, listening now with intention. What I heard threw me even more. She spoke of events that I wasn't sure I recalled, but -wait - yes, I do remember, just not quite like that. She spoke of the 'before the next baby' era, a time still foggy for me, requiring focus and energy to recall details. She smiled as she shared our beginning with others. But the most astounding part of her words were the uspoken ones. Were you to have laid eyes on her in that moment you could have seen it, she was truly thankful, enternally grateful, that I welcomed her into my intense grief.

Can you imagine? All these years I have said, then said again, then re-itteraited my thanks for her as she shared her kids with me without abandon, opened her world to me without question. I nearly bowed at her feet thinking that what she did must have been a sacrifice, but still felt that nothing would ever measure the gift she gave me.

And yet, it turns out, that she felt similarly gifted by my presence.

Astounding. Heart-Healing.

Just being around her calms me. Our connection allows her privilidge that others are not allowed. Like yesterday, in that waiting room, when introductions ensued.

It sounded like this:

D: "Friend, this is one of my nearest and dearest friends, Cara, and this is Comedian, her second, third daughter."

ME: "Nice to meet you."

Friend: "How old are your others?"

ME: "Bear is 6 and Emma would be 8 and half."

D: "Yes. Cara lost her first and that is how we met. Actually, I think it has become a blessing for she has grown into a beautiful, strong woman as a result."

The conversation evolved from there and quite nicely. There was no drama. There were no shocked expressions or quick 'i've go to be goings' as there often are when Emma is introduced. And as I look back on it two things strike me:

1. She introduced Emma, not me. That is rare.
2. Phrases that are allowed only to me when I'm in the right emotional space like, 'second -third child' and 'it has become a blessing', roll off her tongue with ease and feel right to my ears as I hear them.

She respects my daughter. She acknowledges her place in our family. She recognizes the emotional growth that has occurred.

I have been known to say that she "saved my life". From now on I will say, she "shaped my life" and apparently, I - hers.

I Took The Time...

and it felt great!


"You cannot love another until you truly love yourself."

How many times have you heard that valid, but wildly overused wisdom phrase? Me? Countless - and with multiple variations on the "love" part. You know, sub in "provide, insipire, comfort" or any other well meaning verb and it still works.

I just forgot. That's all. It's pretty simple.

But this morning during the 90 minutes of Turbo Jam**, Yoga and Meditation (um..30 min each, just in case you thought I was truly nuts)...I remembered.

I am no good to: my family, my writing, to you, to local bereaved parents, to the board of directors, or any other life I try and touch - unless I remain good, loving, kind, attentative, inspirational, etc...to myself.

Today I feel good, calm, ready to tackle my to-do list with a, I have more than enough time mindset - instead of my recent, I'll never get all this done attitude. (And - shocker...I never did)

There is one more part to my Meltdown series - "The Resolution". I will post it on Sunday, a fitting day it seems. But mostly, because missing Show and Tell two weeks in a row not only shames the straight-A student in me, but could drop my grade...and we just can't have that!

I am more than enough. I am strong. I am deterimined. Watch out world - I have a lot to give, say, write, share, inspire, love, create......


** - On a sad note, my DVD died today, mid-squat and kick! I've already tried to revive it once at the local video store with their fancy machine. I'ts done. I'm sad. Please - if you would, a tiny moment of silence for the only disk that ever inspired a desire to work out. Ok, I'm off to try and find another deal of the century! I'm guessing it won't be five bucks!

Time

Time is fleeting.
Time knows no boundaries.
Time flies.
Time is a manner of perspective.
The Universe loves speed.

It most certainly does.

I feel like I have know all of you forever. I see your screen name and immediately can sense your emotions, recall your baby's names and b/d dates, and am filled with an anticipation to read your next post.

I follow IF'ers who are currently TTC. I cry with you at one pink line. I rejoice with you for two. I pray and worry with you for a healthy pregnancy and a screaming baby.

I found the courage to reach out and ask for help, fundraising help that is, to start my SHARE Southern Vermont group- and you are responding...big time! (Did you look at the ticker today?) In the note I received today, my sweet friend wrote, "Emma is shining upon you. You have truly found your calling." Thank you - for your kind words, for your generous donation and for your strength of heart as you brave this world without your son.

These are deep connections. I don't even know what most of you look like and it doesn't matter. We have connected on the basest of levels. Motherhood, grief, heartbreak, emotion, creativity, purpose, and the deisire to make this world easier for others who suffer. These are indicators of life long friendships.

I started my blog on September 1st.

I have known you for 10 weeks.

I am stunned. 10 weeks: the beginning of a new life, a summer vacation, a good weight loss regiment. And you and I have founded a life-long friendship in 10 weeks. This is the power of God, the power of the Universe, the power of a shared motivation.

I look at my blog, it's sidebar, pictures, and googles of comments - and it feels homey. It is my other home where being a dbm is accepted, embraced and supported - whatever I feel that day.

So, thank you - to each and every one of you, whether you read and cry - or -read and comment (then cry). You are the reason I am here. You are the reason Emma led me here.