Issue Three of Exhale is OUT!

Check out the latest edition of Exhale, hot off the virtual press! In this issue we have some new and exciting things going on!


-News & Features*1st Artistic Exhalation Award Winner*The Kitchen Sinkby Tiffany Lee


-Our First Cover Artist*Check out more work by Jennifer Cowie King, this issue's cover artist.


And - as always - funny and inspirational pieces by featured writers and columnists.


Murgdan Exhales*My Infertility, Month-By-Month: The Second Month

Cara Exhales*Meditations on Life After Loss: Today I Cried

Pamela Exhales*Coming to Terms: Thought Bubbles of a (Barren) Woman

Arielle Exhales*Life After Death: The Grass is Always Browner

Monica Exhales*Knocked Around: An Expired Carte Blanch

Chicklet Exhales*Infertility Bites: How Infertility Changes Foreplayby Natalie

Christina Exhales*Creation from A to Z: Christina's Books, Blogs, & Bits

Mauve Exhales*Mauveby Monica LeMoineDetective Mom investigates.


And - please...if you have yet to meet Mauve she is worth the time for a brief hello!


Admittedly, of all the writers on this ezine I am the deepest, sappiest, and most touchy feely of them all. And so - I would like to dedicate this issue to our editor, Monica, who got knocked up and knocked down for the third time just last week. Somehow, she still pulled together an amazing issue, proof of what an astounding woman, writer - wife and mother she is.


And - if you are moved by a piece - comment, so the author knows their words are making a difference. I mean, it's not like we're paid to do this...yet (wink, wink) so consider your words our payment!

Show and Tell - Valentine

We saw Fireproof last night. At the showing a couple turned and asked the obvious question, "How long have you been married?" "Nine years in May" we answered, surprised at how that can be. The movie was touching, inspiring and found us looking at each other with new eyes over and over again.

"This movie isn't just for couples in crisis" the speaker concluded when the last credit had rolled. "Some said to me just the other day, 'We are taking the love dare to take our great marriage and make it greater.'"

We never had a bad marriage, just one that was tested early with a hellish life-altering scenario. And, we - as individuals and a couple, were left to make sense of Emma's death for the rest of our lives. What remained of us were two very different people who needed to re-discover who they wanted to be in this world and how that looked as a united front.

Our shift started about a year and a half ago. We began meditating, separately. We both started yoga - it works for me, not for him - and that's ok. We worked hard to turn negative thoughts and words into positive ones. We have both had a drastic shift in perspective away from commerical objects and toward embracing time with family. Away from thinking future or past and focusing on living the moment. And - the most profound - but not always the easiest shift of them all - has been our committment to listen without judgement to each other.

This doesn't happen every day, or even most days some weeks. But, on the whole over the last 18 months, our shift has created a happy, content, and MUCH calmer home.

Today - I have to say, was the best Valentine's Day of all our years together.

His gift to me?

A 90 minute yoga class first thing in the morning. (Um - we live in the snowy mountains so the beach shot appealed to me, but I was in a warmed solarium with a nice view of a hot tub!)

When I arrived home - I found he and the kids had been busy...

Their gift to me? I mean - is really isn't V-day without Bar.bie on your card, is it?

And - when they woke up from sweet-dreamy naps, we made the best Valentine-pink-frosting-as-many-sprinkles-as-you-can-fit cookies ever!

I don't know if we'll do the Love Dare -maybe - but I do know that today our house is very much filled with love through actions and not filled with flowers and candy.

Click back over to see what everyone else is showing and telling.

Gratitude and New Digs

First and foremost - THANK YOU to all who commented on my last post. I know I emailed each of you - but a collective I love you all is more than warrented. I will share that day, for it is necessary - yet another part of my cathartic process, but not today.

Today - I want to share what came out of that dark day. The short- short - version...

My DH kicked me out the door with my laptop in hand - saying, "I hope this helps". (don't worry - backstory to follow in the other post)

I drove and drove - having no idea where I would end up. My criteria, well - as much as I could know within my uncontrollable hysteria - were: quiet, dark, and no-one knew me.

Ironically - I ended up in a place that met two out of the three points. However, seeing as it was in my childhood hometown - everyone knew me. But I just felt led there - unable to stop the car until it was in the parking lot and I was out the door.

"Oh, Hi Cara!" met me at the desk. "Hi" I said, hoping against hope my tear stains were minimal and my smile relatively convincing. "Um - I'm looking for a quiet place to ...uh ...work." I stammered. "Sure thing" the librarian said, just go on downstairs to the Community Room." And - as I was walking away she added, "We never care if people go down there - we just like to know."

A couple hours later and a huge emotional purge into my laptop complete- I raised my head. Even through my exhaustion the room came into view. I really saw the space for the first time. It looked nothing like it had when I was a child. The walls were muted, but there were enough windows to let in just enough light. There were drapes on those windows, a couch, and a couple of cozy chairs. A long meeting table, a small kitchen off the room and a clean bathroom just down the hall.

Well - you have probably guessed where this is heading. And - if you haven't, then THIS brief post at the Share Southern Vermont site should clear that up.

So - see what amazing things my Emma can do? She can even use her mother's deepest sadness and most painful moments to bring good things to light.

Thank you Emma for leading me to that place - for revealing exactly what I had been looking for, and not laughing too hard that it was right under my nose the whole time. I love you for being so present in my life, even when I can't see it. - Mommy

Words on the Horizon

Often this is how I feel, like my words are on a nearby horizon - mine - but not formed just yet in a way that makes sense.

I have been working on a post for nearly a week, but held back from pressing the publish button - instead re-reading the text again and again.

It makes sense to me, but I fear it won't to you. I'm afraid you see me as the strong angel mother who somehow has it all together after eight-plus years. Sometimes I am, and her memory fills me with joy and bittersweet celebration - similar to a mother's teary smile as she watches her daughter walk down the isle and marry the man of her dreams.

But - sometimes I'm not. And, although my unexpected breakdowns are - admittedly - few and far between, they do happen. And when they do, they are ugly, time-shifting episodes. I am certain the calendar lies and this is Sept, 2000. My heart breaks all over again into infentessimal pieces as I scramble to pick them up. And, I completly embody the broken woman who cried over a still body all those years ago.

This happened last Friday night and lingered, morphing my personality, crippling my ability to take care of my family until Saturday afternoon. If not for my husband, who has grown so much in his own soul and grief instantly understanding what I needed - even when I couldn't make the tiniest of decisions (sugar or honey in your coffee? I....dddooon't.....knooowwwww - I wailed); I would have been lost to that world for, who knows how long.

I trust you. I love you all. In five months you have become my extended family who resides all over this great country (and beyond ;) I want to share this with you, but I need to know that you want to hear it. Maybe you don't. Maybe you prefer the Cara in her pinstriped pants and crisp ironed shirt who can weather any emotional shitstorm.

I said I would go back, re-live and write about it. I never expected to be admitting it in the present - not like this.

I think I'll go read that post - just one more time.

In grief and love - and trust -

Cara

A Moment Not Worth Missing

I recently wrote this post questioning what we do to our kids by saddling them with our grief for their missing siblings.

Bear gave me my answer tonight. You can read it, here.

The last two lines are, "My heart is bursting tonight with sadness, love and wonder. My gut is satisfied that we made every right decision when sharing Emma with her sisters."

Honest Scrap and Honest Facts

Thanks to CLC for tagging me with this award. I love nothing more than an overflow of honesty. Before I get there though - I have to address a question she brought up in her last post, titled - First or Second? This is a question we - those who have lost babies - tackle every day both in our hearts and in the waiting rooms of various offices, the checkout line at food stores, and in every other populated location where people make small talk.

This is the comment I left for CLC's post: "I do exactly what you did at the office and - no - we are NOT lying. Mostly, I smile and answer honesty for the first round of questioning. IF the person persists with more than three questions, I tell the full truth. I figure they deserve* it if they have pushed that far. I think I'll write a post about demonstrating my "typical conversation" - thanks for reminding me that we all do this. It does feel better, more right - over time. Just this week I said, "My middle child turned 6". My MIDDLE! Wow - what a concept."

(deserve - in a good, earned, they-can-probably-handle-it way ~ not in a flash-it-in-their-face-for-asking way)

And so - I offer my typical conversation, most recently occurring at an alarming rate at the fancy resturant I wait tables at.

Them: What do you do for a day job?

M: I write and I'm home with my kids. (see - they make it look like I opened the door - but really they did, the backdoor at any rate)

Them: Oh! How many kids do you have? (question #1)

ME: Three

Them: Wow! How old are they? (question #2)

Me: 4, 6, and 8

Them: Oh - you really ARE busy! (whew - a comment which I employ to give them an "out" from where this conversation is going - most don't take it)

ME: "Yes, but that's why I come here! I can be a grown-up for the evening."

Them: "What are their names?" (question #3)

ME: The Comedian, Bear, and Emma

(so here we have reached my three question limit. Any question they follow up with at this point is bound to lead us to the "full" truth - as I say - and, as the edges of photos are clearly visable each and every time I open my billfold, often the next query is...)

Them: Are those their pictures? (checkmate)

ME: Yes (opening the billfold all the way so they can oooh and awww at my beauties)

Them: (dropping the question of all questions) Where is your third?

And - well - you know how that conversation goes. Unfortunately - a nice, relaxing fine-dining Italian resturant with all-Frank-all-the-time playing in the background isn't exactly the right place to drop the, "she died" bomb. So, usually, this is where I make my evasive move and let the maternal guilt consume me as I say something like, "Oh - I must remind myself to put her photo back in here". I know - a copout of the grandest proportions - but who am I to ruin their dinner?

If, however, I find myself in those other places I mentioned at the beginning of this post: doctor's office, check out lines, dentist's, playgroup, pre-school pick-up, or even on line for the bathroom at the mall - you can hear me say, "Oh Emma Grace? She is our first born, born still, but forever a part of our family."

****

And - now for the Honest Scrap Award.

The rules:

A) Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

B) Show the 7 winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with "Honest Scrap." Well, there's no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

C) List at least 10 honest things about yourself and - I must add - I think my long lost twin IS CLC - for so many of her truths are mine as well.

10 honest things about me:
1) I am type A - yet anal organiztion escapes me.
2) I see so much of my younger self in Bear that it scares me.

3) Like CLC - I don't enjoy hinting. Say what you mean every time!

4) Unlike CLC - I was an early bloomer - well at least with the menstrual thing.
5) "I do not buy anything unless it's on sale" PERIOD!
6) I introduce my purchases with their pricetag. Ie: "Oh what a lovely coat Cara!" "Thanks! I got it at the Winter clearance at X store for $4.99!"
7) I am an only child who always swore I would have a HUGE family. I have three. I'm done.
8 ) My bucket list is getting longer and longer.

9) I can't imagine life with sons. Our life is all girl and I love it.

10) I am addicted to blogging. Probably not a shocking truth, but I just had to say it out loud.

Oh - the picking...(sigh) it brings me back to dodgeball day in high-school gym class. (lets not go there) How about...Kristin, Tarah, Martha, Barbara, Eskimo Kisses, Momofonefornow, and Mary? Wanna play?

Show and Tell - Drumroll Please...

The transformation is complete. Did I tell you Calliope was waving a magic wand, or what?
This is a pretty obvious Show and Tell. I mean, I have three, yes THREE new headers. I have my own button! (grab it!) I have a navigation menu bar, for crying out crazy loud with links that acutally ...wait for it...WORK! (Go! Go now and try them...they work! Did you click The Bear and The Comedian? Do you just LOVE that header, or what?)

I could go on and on, obviously. But I have something much more important to do. So with "showing" complete (you did go see all my new diggs, right?) it is time to tell.

I must tell you about my friend Dora. She is an amazing lady. She is strong and determined. She is giving and embodies every definition of kind I've ever heard. She connected with angrycarn. Then she connected angrycarn with me. This connection resulted in a bunting-making-team who seems determined to knit, sew and potentially crochet every single one! Dora also did, this - a most amazing give-a-way to benefit Share Southern Vermont. And, the most astounding part is she did it all while trying to remain sane as her big day approached. I mean, does it get any more giving than that?

I must also tell you about my friend, Baby Smiling. She used her creative wiles to do this - the most effective use of delurking week if ever I heard of one! She dared her reader-but-not-commenters to come out and put a price on their heads, I mean- comments, for each who took her up. Non-first timers were worth half the value. That girl raised $97 for Share Southern Vermont.

The connection? Baby Smiling wanted to help with the bunting project, but seeing as she had given up kntting to her past life, she raised the money to purchase the yarn for the ladies who would be doing the knitting. However, with all the good spirits flying Ms. Angrycarn refused the yarn funds and just starting busting out buntings.

So...the long and the short of it is SSV will have all the burial buntings it needs for a good loooooong while (God willing) AND has $97 in it's start up fund to boot.

Thank you Dora. Thank you Angrycarn. Thank you Baby Smiling. Thank you Calliope for the blog makeover of the year. Thank you to all of you who make this community a magical place. I couldn't think of a better place to spend my evenings.

The Shaping Power of Grief

The fourth grader acts out. The teacher admonishes, but thinks – Oh, he has such a hard life. His parents…his peers…his siblings… I can hardy blame him for the way he behaves. And she doesn’t, for now. But where is the responsibility line: fifth grade, the day he steals for the first time, or worse? At what point will the world start to judge this young boy for his actions as opposed to pitying him because of the environment he was born in?

***

The child psychologist sat across from me. He was kind, clear and direct with his words. I liked him for this. Why waste time when there is a solution to be discussed? A small desk, littered with papers that compiled her file separated us.

“Mmm…” he muttered, “so, and I’m just guessing here, that you were nervous during your pregnancy with her.” I nodded, mentally confirming the vast understatement he had dropped on the table. Neurotic would be a more accurate term. Obsessed, terrified, and borderline personality disorder made strong showings as well, not just for the thirty-eight weeks she grew inside me, but as we talked of creating her. They lingered, tailing me even as we left the hospital with a live baby, even as we walked through our front door. Even as we pretended to know how to parent a child after burying one into the ground.

“And this?” He held up a photocopy of the recent newspaper article documenting Emma’s death and our subsequent community actions in her memory eight years later. “I read through it. You have been through a lot. So has she. It seems a lot for a child to make sense of too, doesn’t it?”

Eyebrows raised I did not answer immediately. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Is he equating her worries and social anxieties with the fact that we talk about Emma? That we make her part of our family and don’t hold back the sisterly connection.

“Having a sister in heaven is surely not typical.” I said, my tone more even and calculated than minutes before; a non-answer to be sure. As abstract as the concept is, it is our family’s norm and our children will continue to develop their understanding of her existence with every additional year of their growth.

***
I sat clicking through my blogroll, trying to catch up. A title caught my eye, Rainer Maria Rilke, a poet. The author spoke of her instant attachment to his poetry and the revelation that he was the child after a neo-natal loss. But it was her description of what this implied that struck me speechless. She wrote, “Rainer was his mother's rainbow baby. It all makes sense, he is someone who has been shaped by grief, raised by a mother who was profoundly impacted by child loss.”

Is that the fate our living children are left to sort out? It must be for I am, without a doubt, as profoundly impacted by my daughter’s death as the word allows. And so, I am left to wonder if my children are not that different from the fourth grade boy. If every action and reaction of theirs holds some measure of my loss reflecting back at me. I’m raising them day by day, year by year, paralleled through every stage of my grief. So how can they emerge untouched by it, unshaped by my emotions? They see the melancholic joy in my face when they mention her. They feel my arms around them at her headstone every year. They feel the shift in my ways during late August and early September. They see the tears that slide down my cheeks. “Are you ok Mama?” they ask, but the answer is far too abstract and complex for explanation.

“There is so much guilt in parenting after loss” I recently said to a fellow mourner with a half smile. I am starting to make sense of its origin, yet in doing so I am beginning to fear it will never leave me. I am fearful it will implant itself in the hearts of my girls and hold tight there too, an irreconcilable and foundationless emotion they must carry for the rest of their days.

After the death of my child, I was forever changed. And for so long after that my grief was exclusive. It was mine to feel, mine to manage, mine to fight or give in to. Tangentially others were affected, yet the gaping hole existed in my heart.

The troubled young boy, the child psychologist, Rainer Maria Rilke, and Anarcharist Mom all point to the same conclusion. Even before their conception, my children were too. Just by existing in our home, they are being shaped by both grief and love.

How does grief shape your life?

Blog Makeover

Oh - sorry...didn't mean to get your hopes up with that title, but it IS coming. In fact, Calliope - that bloggy genious, is ready to wave her magic mouse, but I have to back up my blogs firsts. (to all my tech-savy friends - um - any idea how to do that?)

But, did you notice MY BUTTON on the top of the sidebar? Cool huh? Feel free to grab it and place it on your own blog. Afterall the goal is to connect us all in this grief road.

Today's "catch up" agenda was bumped by a classroom observation. But, tomorrow ( I swear) I have the whole morning to write and catch up on my internet obligations. Even so, I am going to type out my to-do list, right here, so there can be no bumping of priorities - random emergency situations notwithstanding.

1. Draw January's SSV Scrapbooking raffle winner!
2. Update Wall of Angels
3. Back up ALL my blogs (remember - I need help with this one!)
and
4. Catch up on my blogroll

Till tomorrow! Oh - and if you want to weigh in on what I should be giving away every month - click HERE and scroll to the bottom of the SSV blog for the poll.

Show and Tell - Oh How I Missed You!

DISCLAIMER - This is the lamest show and tell I've put up...but it's all I've got this week. Keep reading and you'll see why!

Five days without more than a five minute check-in on the computer.

FIVE DAYS without reading other people's blogs, without updating mine (the previous bulletted post not-withstanding), without checking on two week waits, without checking my email even once a day, without laughing out loud at your witty posts and crying silent tears at the sad ones.

Um...did I mention - FIVE DAYS!!!!

It felt like a month! I knew how connected we all were, but I didn't realize just how much I based my day on your experiences - your ups, your downs - your annoucements and emotions.

I feel like a bad friend who missed much! And, as I look at my ever growing google reader, I just might be. Tomorrow is the beginning of a work week, and I will sit and TRY to catch up...but I have a favor to ask.

If I comment regularly on your blog and you know that I follow your story...please just shoot me an email with the highlights from the last week. The five minutes you take to type said email will accomplish three things.

1. It will effectively catch me up on all the good and maybe not-so-good-stuff I missed
2. It will lead me to right posts I need to read to get ALL the details
3. And, most importantly, it will ease the abandonment guilt I am feeling for dissapearing!

So - consider the next paragraph my "Catching Up Email" to all of you!

Hi! Wow, can't believe I feel so disconnected after this last week. I have travelled out of state in a crazy, raging blizzard and lived to tell the tale! I attended a moving and inpsirational meeting of Share in Northhampton and can really see what our little group will grow to be, sadly. I shopped on the way home for my girls birthday party. They have birthdays so close together we combine the party. Well, this year it was more like two parties on the same day, at the same time, in the same house - but two different rooms. But, the miraculous part, was the atmosphere was so calm. The party was the most in control we've ever had! Today I try to get my head back on straight with presents still strewn all over the floor and half finished projects on tables - but I missed you, so I really needed to send this along! I look forward to catching up on your recent doings!

And - if you feel so inclined to see The Comedian's First Dance Video - click on over... Oh - and don't actively drink while watching. You might spit soda on your clean shirt. Ok - don't say I didn't warn you, the girl's got some groovin' moves!

Talk to you soon!! - Cara

This post is bulletted because that is my current working mood. MUST GET ALL TASKS ON STICKY NOTES.

• I'm back.
• A 90 minute drive took 3 1/2 hours.
• I had Ha.ry Po.t.ter to keep me company.
• The meeting was amazing.
• The company I kept was inspiring - already a true friend for life.
• The ride home was BLISSFUL, sunny skies, shopping and my good friend Harry.

• Now I'm in Combined Un-Themed Birthday Prep Mode.
• Kids staying over at Nana and Papa's tonight!
• A mini date night to follow
• Then - Home to ready the house for three 4 year olds and five 6 year olds.

I'll post again, AFTER, the big event and when my mood isn't so bullettish!

I'm Leavin' On A Jet Plane...

Oh no - that's in May. But I am going to be missing for a couple days...

If you want to know why, and just how far I will go (both mentally and physically and at 25 mph) for a mission I believe in, put on your hats, mittens, neckwarmers, and gather your ice scrapers, extra food and a flashlight - then CLICK HERE.

(please comment with best wishes and validation of my pure insanity!)

PS - Mom, I love you. You KNOW I'm employing a great measure of sarcasm here, right?...so try not to worry, too much. I promise I'll call - PROMISE!

Show and Tell - Grief Old and New

I have a creative family. We create through many mediums. My parents sing. My father plays the guitar. Both my parents are artists in their own right. I sing, but art...the draw/paint/sketch kind is lost on me. (Seriouly - I can draw rainbows and houses...the sun and a few flowers - That's It!)

Bear is a born artist. Damn- her stuff impresses me and she is only 6. The Comdian? Well, her artistic gift is more physical and words - oh her words - her timing - I'm laughing just thinking about her contorted face, all for a laugh.

And speaking of words, that seems to be my gift. The power to put them on paper and touch a soul and the ability to speak them in front crowds in an effort to further a cause. Both feel great to me, both free me of a measure of the grief that permeates - always. Oh - and I love to scrapbook, but that's more creative that artistic - but I love it just the same.

My show and tell this week is that gift - seen through my parent's eyes. The first poem was written by my father days after Emma's death. He found the strength to read it at her funeral - somehow.

The second is a poem written by my mom, only months ago, and given to us in Emma's 8th birthday card. The image on the card was as much the gift as the poem. Whoever created that image may have reached into my head and pulled out the imagined picture of Emma I hold: Long straight flowing hair, red cheeks, and a calm airy existance - enjoying every minute of her life.

Please enjoy grief - old and new - as an affirmation that grief never leaves us, only morphs and changes as we integrate it into our lives.

Angel of Love

When she was born she brought to this world
Such beauty and grace this brave little girl
She’s place in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

She’s in heaven now so holy and blessed
Peaceful and joyous – a place she can rest
She’s placed in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

This angel of love is with us today
Bringing us comfort is so many ways
She’s placed in our hearts for now and for always
Beautiful Emma Grace

September Graces

Autumn treasures
To embrace
Nature's daughter,
Emma Grace

Butterflies
With wings of lace
Graceful girl
Emma Grace

Beams of light
Dance 'round her face
Heavenly child
Emma Grace

Eight bright candles
Light your place
Birthday angel,
Emma Grace.

** Both poems have been submitted to the Share Infant And Pregnancy Loss Newsletter. The next issue's topic is GRANDPARENT'S LOSS. Please feel free to submit your own piece by clicking on the above link and following the directionso on the sidebar. The deadline is February 1st.

The Broken Thread

This post is long overdue, like the library is demanding money kind of long.

I read Ms. Monkey's post this morning. Don't know her? She's new round these parts, sadly. Go on over and say "Hello, so sad your here". And, that is exactly what her post is all about - the instant induction all us dbm's receive in the club noone wants to join. She also addressed our lack of status via a secret handshake or some other visually recognizeable symbol.

Reading it reminded me of two things. First, THIS post I wrote just after Halloween. Basically, I was saying the same thing - feeling the same thing - craving a way to recognize a fellow suffer. I just focused more intenstly on how we recognize each other. The questions resonated with me so long that Signs and Symbols was in my list for Creme-a-la Creme.

The need for contact, even a smile and a nod of recognition, led me to email the great and all-knowing Mel. Who, using her greatness and all-knowingness, gently showed me that the scarlet mark (as it were - as it is scarlet in nature) already existed. She shared with me this post, "The History of the Common Thread".

And - the symbol above. In her post she describes its purpose.

"The pomegranate-colored thread holds a two-fold purpose: to identify and create community between those experiencing infertility as well as create a starting point for a conversation. Women pregnant through any means, natural or A.R.T., families created through adoption or surrogacy, or couples trying to conceive during infertility or secondary infertility can wear the thread, identifying themselves to others in this silent community. At the same time, the string serves as a gateway to conversations about infertility when people inquire about its purpose. These conversations are imperative if we are ever to remove the social stigma attached to infertility.Tie on the thread because you’re not alone. Wear to make aware. Join us in starting this conversation about infertility by purchasingthis pomegranate-coloured thread (#814 by DMC) at any craft, knitting, or variety store such as Walmart or Target. Tie it on your right wrist. Notice it on others. Just thought I would pass the word along!"

Kudos to all who where involved in the creation of the subtle indicator so conversations may begin and connections be made. I can't even begin to imagine how many have been touched by this small and inexpensive addition to your wardrobe.

However - the more I thought about it the more I wondered about people like me? I never struggled with infertility. I can't wear this thread. For a gentle glance and tentative question, "How long did it take you?" would meet a sheepish answer from me, "Um..well..we weren't even really trying the first time." I don't know which would sting more to the woman hearing these words, the "not trying" part or the "first time" part - indicating that there were more easily conceived either live children or angels in my life.

No - fertility isn't my issue, but loss - deep and tragic loss, the kind that never leaves the marrow of your bones; that is my issue. The fact that life forced me to sit upright in a hospital bed, still bleeding from delivery, and hold a still, dead child - that is the gentle, subtle message I wish to send. To invite other women to open the conversation with a gentle glance and a tentative question, "Who did you lose?" Without hesitation or a non-grammatic filler, I would reply, "Emma Grace. My first. At forty weeks. You?"

So, I am going to pose a question. (**praying intensely that I do not offend or upset any of my TTC friends!**) Could we, the loss parents, wear a modified version of this symbol, to signify loss? I entitled this post, "The Broken Thread", but of course that is more a metaphor than a reality, for if we broke the thread then it would fall of our wrist and we would - once again - be bare wristed - showing the world -well...absolutly nothing.

No, instead I through out a suggestion. What if we picked a thread color to represent loss? Again - small, simple and cost effective and NOT re-creating the wheel! (Oh how I hate recreating that wheel!)

The Pomegranate thread can be worn independently to signal struggles with infertility.

The other thread, I vote for pale lilac* - you?, can be worn independently to signal the loss of a child, at any time during pregnancy.

Or - wear them together and we will know your dual struggle.

I don't want to divide our ALI community. The way we support and love each other's struggles even if we haven't lived through that particular shot, drug, or kind of loss is astounding.

Some suggestions that have already been made are:

1. Pick two colors that go better together.

2. Expand the write-up for the pomegranate thread to explictly include loss.

So - PLEASE comment with your own ideas, suggestions, and feelings. And PLEASE pass this link on to others so THEY can weigh in.

Cara

* - "purple lilacs symbolize death"

ILCW, ALREADY?

I seem to have difficulty keeping track of the days this month. I always feel a thrill when I realize ILCW is coming up and look forward to the 21st of the month in a way that one typically anticipates the season opener of their favorite sports team!


I totally forgot this month (hangs head in shame) until I saw a comment appear with those four tittilating letters at the end.


So, as an ILCW opener, I'm listing the top 5 activites demanding great chunks of my time (read - don't be offended if I don't get to your blog until the buzzer nearly goes off).


TOP 5 ACTIVITES DEMADING GREAT CHUNKS OF MY TIME:

5. Cooking and Laundry (they deserve mentions even if they are on the top-bottom of my list, right?)


4. Reading - current book: The Knitting Circle by Ann Hood. (I am a firm believer that reading and writing go together and to be great at one you must be committed to the other)


3. Writing - both my book and my column for Exhale magazine (don't know it? You must check it out - IT ROCKS!)


2. Blogging- Ok, this might seem like a selfish one, but I do have four* blogs you know! And - I am nit-picky enough to want them all to be authenticly writen for their own designated purpose.
This takes a lot of time! (Oh- and the totally-kickin-makeover Calli and I have up our sleeve is eating up a few minutes too!)


And, the NUMBER 1 activity demading EXCESSIVE chunks of my time is founding our local chapter of Share- Pregnancy and Infant loss support for the southern part of our state. Sure, it sounds like a no-brainer, a snap of the fingers really - but my reality check was solidified when I opened a 28 page (yes that says 28) application for non-profit status.


I am eternally grateful for all the opportunities coming my way this year and spend each minute of my time as such. But, to re-iterate the main point - I may not get to your blog until the buzzer nearly goes off - but I WILL get there - because not on the list - but very important is to ROCK THE IRON COMMENTATOR this month!


*Blogs not already liked to in this post are: The Bear and The Comedian (parenting after loss) and Wall of Angels, a memorial site for all our lost children. Please feel free to add yours by emailing me.

Martin Luther King Jr. - We All Have Two Days

Today we remember Martin Luther King, Jr. We celebrate his dreams, his visions and the fact that - although he isn't here to see the measure of equality our world now stands for - it exists, because he took a stand.


He died for his visions, his beliefs, and his dreams. In truth- he was killed for those fanicful notions. As Bear says, "The brown people and the white people didn't want to sit together on the bus. So they fighted." And how, my love - and how they did fight.


So, we honor this man on his birthday, but not on his deathday. We don't pause on April 4th, when the weather is warming slightly, the snow starting to melt and our internal spirits rising with the temperature, and say, "Here's to a man who - on some level - knew he was sacrificing his life for his beliefs." No, we recognize him on the day his mother pushed him into the world, unknowingly giving life to a man that would change the lives of millions.


Why?


I wonder what the discussion around the nominating committee table for "National Holidays Devoted To An Individual" sounded like. For, as noted in the article, "It is one of three United States federal holidays to commemorate an individual person.[1]" I wonder if there was much discussion, or if the decision to honor this man was unanimous. But more than that, I wonder if , as Reagan signed the "holiday into law" in 1983, they even debated which day to celebrate - his birthday or his deathday. I doubt it.


Before losing a child, this line of thinking would never have struck me. Before burying my baby into the earth, it made perfect sense to honor this brave man on his birthday. But now, after years of answering questions with double statements...


"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss. When did she die?"
"Well ...she died on September 6th, but she was born on September 8th."


I can't help but ask the question, if we remember this man for his life actions, why memoralize the first day of his life, instead of his last?


And yet - I suppose this makes me a hypocrite. For annually, we gather at Emma's grave with flowers, balloons, tears, and smiles on September 8th - her birthday. I choose to celebrate the day I birthed her, the day we met her serene and perfect face. I keep very busy on the day I felt "excessive" movement - the day I threw my head back and laughed, a first-time pregnancy naive laugh- as she died within me.


No judgement in this post, for I would have to judge myself right along with the group of men and women who sat in that early-80's room, creating a day to honor a great man.


No - only questions. Well - one question, really.


Regardless of our children's lifespan, 30 years or 3 days, why or why not do we choose to celebrate their birth over their death?

Show and Tell - Breathe In and Out

Keeping it brief this week.. yes - I know, Shocking!
If you already know about Exhale, the totally amazing ezine for infertiles and baby lost parents - did you know about THIS?

If you don't know about this creative, literary source...GO CHECK IT OUT! You could have your work featured - photography, poems, and don't forget to enter a "first story".

So - I'm SHOWING: Volume One - Issue Two. It came out Friday and it rocks! Breaking Roadblocks is the name of my column this month.
And - I'm TELLING you, don't forget to see what everyone else brought to class!

Delurk... (with a smirk)

I borrowed this totally awesome image from Lori. Click over and read her proposal...it may help her get to Blogher 09 and you get some ad space!

Anyhoo ;) Here's smirking at all of you who read!

If you come round these parts, but I don't know you - drop a quick comment..puhleeease?

I promise to follow you back and check out your blog! And, chances are, because I have no self control and an ever growing blogroll - I'll continue to read it.

So - (said in a very Diego camera's like gait) De-Lurk...With A Smirk" ;)

Fear is a Barnacle

Fear and Grief. They are a team. The worst kind - a tag team. They surrounded me when Emma died, consuming every part of my being. When one rested the other swept in, rejuvinated, more than able to keep me wading in a broken- unable to function - place.

My grief has morphed, evolved, shape-shifted. My life is filled with moments. I can tell her story without crying (most of the time). I can feel her presence without falling to the floor. I can love my angel baby without my heart repeatedly self-destructing. To support my growth, I take affirmative action to ensure the our daughter - or beautiful Emma Grace - is remembered always.

In a recent post I said I would, "go back", but the joke was on me. I didn't need to. My fears are still here, quiet - stealth like, but part of me forever. They took permant residence within the marrow of my bones, waiting for their chance. They attacked on Sunday morning.

The girls, all four of them, had gone to bed without any trouble - two in one room and two in another. Sure, I heard some talking. The youngest had to use the bathroom, get a quick drink of water, and "check" her sister's middle of the night flashlight to be sure it was working. But, all in all, a very smooth bedtime routine considering we had three additional kids in our house on a Saturday night.

The baby, after a very stimulating and napless afternoon, had passed out early. At 6:00 I snuggled him in, read a book, surrounded him with all his familiar bedtime paraphanlia and sang as I walked out my bedroom door. The monitor was on full blast, but we never heard a peep. That boy was tired!

"Well" I said to my husband, who looked equally napless and wiped out, "He'll probably be up at the crack of dawn." We were quite mistaken.

***
At nine o'clock I tiptoed around the pack-n-play at the base of my bed. Snuggled down under the mountain of covers necessary in an old farm house in mid January, I listened. It felt so good to have a baby in our room again. He talks in his sleep, sometimes sings a little I think. For the first two hours, I was in and out of a light slumber. I tossed when he tossed. I turned when he turned. I lay still, but heard the rustle of flannel sheets moving against the mesh sides of the portable bed. And then, I slept - until 6am - (the formally referred to "crack of dawn"). The Comedian's elephant feet thumped down the stairs. Tip-toeing past the sleeping baby I stopped for just a moment to take in the sight. The peaceful slumber of a 1 year old is a sight to behold.

That's when my demons jumped out. You better check and see if he's breathing! I scoffed, Of course he's breathing, but gripped by an irrational fear, I checked.

The baby slept. I peeled hard boiled eggs. The coffee maker buzzed.
The baby slept. I made scrambled eggs. I drank my coffee.
The baby slept. The girls pounded around on the hard wood floor, doing a morning rendition of our chicks moving in their tiny coop.
The baby slept. I took out the "you can only play with these when the baby isn't here" toys for the girls.

Fear attacked again. I tried to fend off his advances, but he was too strong. He played dirty.

You better go check on him again. His head was tilted into his blanket a bit, wasn't it.

I'm sure he's fine. Had a long day. He's just tired!

You don't know that for sure, do you?

Well...no. I guess not.

What if you let him sleep and then it's too late? What if you get up there and he's still, beyond help. Oh Cara, It's bad enough that you let your baby die without taking action, but you may have killed someone else's. GO. GO CHECK NOW!

I ran up the stairs, panicked, a feeling of dread in the my chest that hadn't squeezed me for so long. I couldn't get there fast enough. I was now sure that there was somthing wrong - that I had missed my chance to save him. That our friends who are so particular with who they entrust to watch their children would feel the same fear and despair that I have for the rest of their lives. That they would never again be able to look at me with with any semblance of respect.

No longer caring about noise levels - I pushed the door open and, with fear looking over my right shoulder and grief on my left - I peered into the crib.

He lay still - with eyes wide open. At the sight of me a huge grin grew on his perfect little face. "Aaaa" he said, not attempting to sit up, but just smiling up at me. Brushing off my shoulders, I reached down to meet his upright arms.

He is fine. I am forever haunted.

Show and Tell - "Best Five Bucks I've Ever Spent!"

I've bought LOTS of things on e-bay.

It was an on-again / off-again obsession for me.

I would visit a friends house and comment on how lovely her candle display looked. And - BAM... within 24 hours I had perused the wide array of candles, holders, and display accessories and purchased an obsene amount on that addicting auction / internet yard sale site.

"Do you think an iron scroll theme will work in the kitchen when it is done?" my husband asked me on a lazy Sunday morning. Done. Even though I was still staring at demoed walls with plaster all over my floor and a basin substuiting as a sink, these were on there way to our house.

They lived in the closet for a year and a half.

Sometimes it was batch clothing I needed, a summer set for the baby or a winter wardrobe for Bear.

Occasionally, I was desperate for a hard to find item that stores didn't carry (like that oil carrafe I broke at work and got gauged on the price from some guy in Cananda - but I HAD to replace it!).

But then there were those few, rare purchases that I still look at and smile. With pride, instead of sheepish admittance, I report, "Yes. I got that on ebay for only X dollars!"

This week, for Show and Tell, I share the best five dollars I ever spent on ebay! (I didn't get the whole kit for $5 - now THAT would be a good deal - but this was the best pic I could find!)

Are you laughing? Stop laughing. Come on - just hear me out, ok?

I've always hated to exercise but I LOVE to dance. So two years ago I ordered Turbo Jam and I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.

Yeah - it was hard in the beginning. They zigged when I zagged. They hooked when I jabbed. But, I stuck with it and now I know the routine by heart. And (here is the wierd part) I look forward to doing it! The slight definition in my abs I noticed this morning doesn't hurt my desire to work out either.

According to my weight loss ticker on my other blog I have 16 pounds left to lose before I hit my goal weight. (If you click over and scroll to the bottom you can see the GOAL DRESS too!)

So, chuckle if you must, but I say with a big smile on my face, pride in my voice, and a shrinking waistline - My $5 turbo-jam dvd is the best ebay purchase I ever made.

WHAT'S YOURS?

Commence Segregation...

This will be one of the last posts focusing (partially at least) on Share Southern Vermont on THIS blog.

Why? Because SSV has it's very own, brand-new, shiny blog!! Click over to oooo-aaahhhh and answer the burning question in the first post!

Slowly, as time allows and as I figure out this eleged new blogging feature that allows me to transfer posts from blog to blog, I will be moving the backstory over. For the month of January the SSV Memory Making Giveaway info will remain on BOTH sites, but in February all you will see is a tiny little reminder on the sidebar to click over and feast your eyes on the NEW prize pack.

This is simultaneously exciting and sad for me. This blog feels (and pardon the ridiculous metaphor) rather like a uterus to me. It grows and expands to hold all I fill it with. It is a safe place for new idea to grow and develop, but expels it when the idea is too big, needing a new home. SSV's new home is ready, both in blogland and in a meeting room in Southern Vermont. It is time for BHB to return to it's roots for a spell.

(if you are of the praying variety please send one up that the NEXT big idea doesn't hit me over the head for a good long while! Is this is a bad time to tell you that the title of yet another book swirling around in my head popped out while driving yesterday?)

Damn tangents.

As I was saying, it is time for these posts to return to the rhumeratory nature of grief and loss throughout the years.

Recently, I have received a fair amount of comments and posts about my "upbeat nature" and "positive attitude". Yes, I certainly am taking the largest shipment of nearly rotten lemons and turning them into a bearable beverage - but, and this might sound crazy so bear with me - this blog isn't feeling like the place to be positive right now.

I don't mean that I am going to morph into a scary version of a movie character. But I do mean that I have hard some dark times. I have nearly dove headfirst into the hole many times during this grief journey. And many of you are teetering on the edge, as I type.

It is for you, the newly - and not so newly bereaved parents, that I started this blog. I owe it to you, and to myself, to write about the experience from the early years and throughout. It is eerie how easily I can put myself right back there and draw from the emotion to find words. I recently received an email in reference to my Exhale column, "Did you write that after emma died, like at that 2 month mark?"

I was stunned into a computer haze for a moment as I digested her question. The answer is no. I wrote that in December as my submission to become a comlumnist for the new magazine. But her comment made me go back and read it through her eyes, through my eyes 8 years ago.

THAT is what I want to be producing here. I'm sure occassionally I'll post something surface and fun...heck- I'm addicted to Show and Tell, aren't you?

I'll make you a deal. I'll go back if you go forward...one step, one day at a time.

xoxo to ALL of you

Life Linguistics

UPDATED: THIS IS MY 100TH POST! I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE UNTIL AFTER IT WAS POSTED. THEN, I REALIZED IT WAS A VERY APPROPRIATE FIT: A POST ABOUT WHERE THE BLOG AND I HAVE COME OVER THE LAST 4 MONTHS AND WHERE WE ARE GOING FROM HERE!

Thank you to all of you for your your heartfelt comments on the last post in response to the RH article. My two worlds ARE colliding and my real life one is exploding.

"Man! Your wife is famous!" the cashier at the local building supply store said to Jeremiah as he hoisted a bucket of mud to the counter.** (famous is a very relative term as I live in a TINY little town)

He shrugged. "You saw the paper, huh?"

Everybody has and that was the point right? The ultimate goal here was TO GET THE WORD OUT and start helping people. But, I have to admit -- the phone ringing off the hook, my inbox being flooded with responses and my Share Southern Vermont to-do list growing by the hour IS a tad overwhelming.

So, I feel led to write this post. I do not believe that it is a linguistic conincidence that responsibility, accountability, and priority rhyme. They are interconnected in the most intimate sense.

RESPONSIBILITIES: I have many, and yes --they are all a result of my own doing. Regardless I take them very seriously, and so I map them out for you here.

• My family (they do like to wear clean clothes - occasionally)
• Growing Share Southern Vermont (SSV)
• Writing a thought provoking column for Exhale Magazine
• Completing my book proposal and Selling the book!
• Distributing Memory Boxes to families

ACCOUNTABILITY: I feel accountible not only to myself, but to you. You, both my bloggy friends and IRL supporters are the reason I have made it this far in the journey. I know how important it is to stay "well" within myself and so I break down this action into two steps.

TO SELF:

• Make time for meditation and exercise
• Finish each day pleased with whatever I have managed to accomplish

TO YOU:

• Stay current with my google reader. I have enjoyed following each one of your stories and watching as you grow within your grief. I don't want to lose that even as my life demands more of me here. I will do my absolute best to stay current, but if you don't see my mug pop up for a few days...don't worry -- I'll Be Back!!!
• Segragate my topics. Once again this blog is become home to so much more than my continued grief journey of Emma Grace. Soon you will see a post about a blog dedicated JUST to SSV! Once that is complete, you will have the choice to click to my grief blog, my parenting-after-loss blog, my angel wall, OR my Share Southern Vermont blog!

PRIORITIES: It feels like time to prioritize. I won't be able to run an effective non-profit if I don't. I won't be able to attend to every part of my life, every day. That is a fact I have to accept. (read: NOT easy for me to accept and even HARDER to do)

Again, THANK YOU to all of you for your never-ending support. WE will make a difference. I just have to take it slow...one effective step at a time.

** If you read the article then you know my families real names. So, the cat is out of the bag, as they say. Even so, I'll still be using Bear and Comedian cause...well - their just too cute to let go!

Show And Tell - Holy Cannoli!

That's what I fell out of my mouth as I opened the Rutland Herald this morning to the "magazine section".

The staff writer had called me to shore up a couple quotes the other day, so I knew it was going to be in the Sunday edition, but I wasn't ready for THIS!

I have to admit, after writing my own article for the smaller local papers about Share Southern Vermont, I was concerned that someone else was writing about me and our group. With the wisdom that only grief gives us I banished the "what-ifs" and dove into the article.

It is wonderfully written. I am like a new mother today who just delivered a screaming healthy baby -- Today, I truly believe that our outreach is real. And in 10 days the sad proof will be sitting with me in a conference room sharing our stories.

A few thank you's:

• Thank you Sara for bringing my attention to Share and reminding me that I don't always have to re-invent the wheel.



• Thank you Dora for supporting me in this endeavor in so many ways, most recently with the hat-raffle.
  


• Thank you Kristin - you know why.
  


• Thank you Mel for micro-managing the blogosphere so well that we are all listed in one place. (and for enduring all my book related questions)
  


• Thank you to ALL who have donated, both here in my real-life world and from blogland. You mean so very much to me.**
  


• Thank you Carol for taking the better part of an evening to answer my endless questions about start up! And thank you for the amazing work you do in Northhampton. (I'm not done with my questions...just saving them up for my visit!)
  


• And, there is no way to thank Martha enough. She connected to this mission from 3000 miles away. She became my "West Coast Publicist". She is the one who emailed the Rutland Herald. Thank you Martha! Without you this article would never have happened.

PS - I ALREADY got a call from a sketch artist / wood burning artist who is willing to volunteer his services to personalize the boxes for each family!

** A brief explanation. Although I tried my best to convey to Josh (the writer) the mutually exclusive relationship between my face-to-face outreach and the emotional family we have in the computer, I don't think he really got it. How could he, really? It is the only part of the article that I cringed at.

** Oh - and he missed a word in the book title: After Emma: One Mother's Journey of Self-Discovery Through Grieving The Loss Of Her Baby.

"If you aren't growing - you are dying" --January SSV Prize Pack Revealed!

I heard that quote at a seminar a few months ago. It is very open to interpretation, yet also a clear and finite statement.

I read it to mean, if the results of your actions were not what you expected, then shift your action and the outcome with reflect your growth.

Last month, we had a WINNER in the Share Southern Vermont Scrapbooking Raffle. As you might recall, I was overjoyed that she won, even if it was because she purchased the only ticket!

Obviously, that wasn't the goal. I didn't manage to get the word out effectively. So, I have sat with this and decided to make a few "tweaks".

1. Tickets are now $5 instead of ten.




2. Link to the blog using the slideshow or video walkthrough to earn a free ticket. (comment, then email me for the code)




3. Write a post about SSV and the raffle and earn another free ticket.

Enter as many times as you like, and please...help me get the word out. I recall spending WAY too much money on scrapbook supplies. (I mean WAY too much! ...ok - I still do, a couple times a year) But enough about me and the ways I rationalize my hobby funds. For YOU to potentially win this fab prize pack for a mere $5 donation blows even MY mind! (Did I forget to mention these are ALL C.reat.ive Me.mem.ories products?)

Without further ado...

SHARE SOUTHERN VERMONT'S -- JANUARY PRIZE PACK

Sugar and Spice And Everything BABY GIRL!

The 12x12 album WITH pre-decorated pages and a raised image of baby shoes on the cover.

Ooodles of accessories: baby girls stickers, die cuts, write-again paper, memorablila pockets, titles and a set of fine tip journaling pens.

AND...

An assorment of baby girls papers with a whimsical birthday die-cut set.

10 Chicks - 1 Winner - and A Prayer

It takes 5-6 weeks to know the sex of a chick. So - I proudly introduce our first born. S/he arrived at 3:30pm on 12/31/08. Bear said 3:00 and was the closest. Wow - an in house winner. Most of you went with the class clown's solid "fifty-o-clock". She is going to be the class clown isn't she?

The rest of the clan hatched intermittently throughout the evening and all through the night! Yes sir - that's right. My DH (who is a truly amazing man - but never, and I mean never gets up in the night) stayed on the couch last night hopping up ever two hours for a new babe.We even have a black one! Do you see it?

We also have a sick one. H/she can't stand up and looks weak all around. Fellow chicks are lending support and if any group of connected people can pull off a miracle...it's you, but it's not looking good.

Oh- and the existing female in our house - Ms. Sally - is less than thrilled at this turn of events, or to be more specific, she cranky because we won't let her eat one.

And, CONGRATULATIONS! to Martha, winner of the SSV scrapbook raffle by default! I can't think of anyone better to kick off the winning in the monthly* raffle! Go over and nurse her back to health as she has JUST has her wisdom teeth out and is feeling pretty bad.

*I am supposed to put up the next prize pack today - a baby themed one - but I have to concede defeat to three nights in a row of waitressing until past midnight AND carrying trays up and down the stairs to the upperlevel seating. Put a fork in me ...I'm done.

And our family grows...

WHAT??

NO! I am not pregnant. What on earth would make you think that? (I do have an uninvited cyst on my left ovary - but that is neither here nor there as it is fluid filled and should "wash away" soon)

So - how is our family growing?

A few months ago, DH starting building this.

In our small town (without zoning) questions came at warp speed, "Are you building a tractor port? Oh, is it a sugar house? Gonna put a hot tub in there? (if only that were true!)"

With a broad smile he answered, "It's a chicken house! I'm hatching chicks."

A quick stop at the local W.A.W.W.E (we are what we eat) organic farm had him proudly brandishing a dozen fertalized egges. "And she gave them to me for FREE!" he reported "She also wished me luck."

Fastforward to yesterday as he turned the eggs with pencils so hand oils don't make contact with the eggshells and filled the water making sure it was just the right temperature to compliment the heat from the lamp. I heard a big sigh.

"What's up?"

"Eh- I just don't know if this is working. Probably not. But, no biggie, right? I didn't pay anything for the eggs."

"When are they supposed to hatch?" I asked

"Tomorrow" he said, still rather dejected.

"New Year's babies, huh? Wow - that will be something."

"Maybe"

This morning we came downstairs to the faint sounds of chirps! They are still in the eggs but they'll be here soon. The girls are so excited and DH is out fashioning a temporary living space until the wiring is completed in the "chicken house". Typical of a parent-to-be to not quite be ready for the babes, yes? (UPDATED - TEMPORARY LIVING SPACE COMPLETE!)

Ahhh - now only six months until we have fresh, organic eggs just outside our door! Come on little chickies. Hatch!

BTW - Bear says they'll hatch at 3pm. The Comedian weighed in at "fifty-o-clock". What do you think?

JUST A BLUNT REMINDER!

I wouldn't be sad if my good friend Martha won this totally kick-a$$ prize pack for a mere $10 entry. In fact, I'd be overjoyed because it wouldn't even begin to thank her enough for all the time, energy, love, and friendship she has put into promoting Share Southern Vermont.

And - since she is the ONLY one who bought a ticket, then linked to my blog (and earned herself a FREE entry) - the chances are pretty good she shall be ...da winner! The drawing is tomorrow night ya know!

Unless.....YOU decide you want it more. The chip-in widget is still going - seriously ONE ticket and ONE link evens your odds! And here is a refresher of what you could win!

MEMORY MAKING PACKAGE #1

"TRUE LOVE"

Perfect for any couple getting married or currently in wedded bliss without an album to show it!

PICK THIS ALBUM

OR THIS ONE
AND GET ALL THIS TOO!


INCLUDES:

• 1 set 12x12 pages1 set mini silver abc/123 stickers
  
• 1 photo labeling pencil
  
• 1 pack natural correction stickers


• 1 Simple Expressions quote book


• 1 Neutral Snap Pack


• 1 Formal Affair Done-With-One


• 1 Garden Illusions textured paper pack


• 1 Elegant Sticker strip and 2 peace/love/joy small sticker sheets


• 1 Pack Elegent Letter Laser Stickersand


• 1 Complete "Once Upon A Wedding" Album Kit (including idea book)

ALL TOGETHER THESE ITEMS RETAIL FOR OVER $100.00!

And don't worry...If you don't win the grand prize, you might get this totally must have Side-Kick. (my customers used to tell me it was an "accessory" that you feel guilty buying for yourself...well now you don't have to - you might win it!)

See you in the New Year and COME BACK NEXT MONTH FOR AN ALL BABY PRIZE PACK!

My Third World Is Not A Country

"Mom - fairies are real, you know" Bear said to me on a walk this morning. "Hmmm?" I answered. "Oh yes" she continued, "I went to check on my fairy house and all the food is gone. It was sticks and twigs and no-one would want that kind of food unless they were a fairy - so - now I believe."

Heaven and Earth -- The Seen and the Unseen

I talk about them all the time.
I write about them even more consistently.
They permeate my every thought.

I have three daughters: one in heaven, two on earth.

Two Worlds Collide was a working title for my book. A quick google revealed it was also a sci-fi novel and as much as my life experience may feel like science fiction at times, a book on grief and healing with the same name wouldn't really resonate with the literary public.

Regardless, for eight years I have worked to resolve the infinity sized gap between my two worlds. I have searched for earthly objects to represent the spirit form - grasping at their tangibility with my mortal soul, while crying oceans of tears knowing it would take a lifetime - my lifetime - to really narrow that chasm.

Perspective. It all comes down to the way we choose to see the world. This is what I told myself recently.

My two worlds are like a swinging pendulum in constant motion. There are moments, pinpointed seconds in time, when they collide with such force even I, moving in an opposite direction, cannot miss it. Time stops. Peace resides. All is right with both spheres - for a moment, a mere instant - we are a connected family. This I have made peace with. I no longer create questions or make up answers when these miracle moments come. I sit in them. In fact, my longing for them to stretch into forever is most probably what makes them dissapear. I can see them slip away, and feel the struggle return.

This has been my road, my two-laned highway for so long I don't even need to check lanes before passing. But this week, a third lane appeared. It came out of nowhere. It blind-sighted me with such force that I didn't notice in time. I crashed.

On Christmas Eve night I logged in to check my google reader. Ok there's no keeping secrets from you, is there? I logged in to see if Antigone had begun labor yet. And maybe that is why reading of Emilie's death reduced me to a sobbing mess. But if my all-consuming reaction could have been explained away by a diversion of focus, then I should be able to speak of it or even think of her now without tears. I can't.

I cried while asking for prayer at church for her husband, parents and boys.
I cried while writing my previous post regarding her loss.
I cry, now - writing this.

I know Emilie wasn't my third lane, but she represented it. She is the gorgeous spirit who knocked down the divider so I could finally see the world in triplet. Her death revealed how powerful this blogging community is to me. It cleared the fog allowing me to see past a rectangular computer screen and hear more than the clickety-clack of my partially grown nails on the keys. It brought my thirld world into focus - You.

I feel you. I feel the community. Apart from the occasional world tour or a decoration crisis, you have not seen the inside of my house, but you are here. I walk through my days and thoughts of you walk with me- I wonder if Stellan is breathing easier right now. ~ I hope Hope's Mama's non-traditional Christmas dinner is coming out all right ~ Wow! I wonder how many pre-sale copies of Lollipop's book have flown off the virtual shelf already. mingle with my typical (and boring) daily musings, I should get the mail before I go to town because there might be a check to deposit ~ What the heck am I going to feed my family tonight? ~ When will I get to watch the next episode of Brothers and Sisters? (yes Mel - I'm hooked)

Over the past four months you have become part of me. Your families, your tones of voice (or at least the ones I use when reading your words), your struggles and your rejoicing events walk through my days. But it happened so fast. It was like falling in love and not realizing it until a starry night when you looked into his eyes and nearly fell over.

Reading of Emilie's death knocked me over. I'm up. But I feel compelled to make you a promise - Never again will I underestimate the power of what we have. I cannot see you, but you are part of me. You are my third world.

"Bear" I said, crouching down so we were level - eye to eye - "Of course they ate the food. And I want you to know something. As you grow up - never forget - it is so important to believe without seeing."

Show and Tell - Sunday School Take Two

Twas the Sunday after Christmas and in the Sunday School room..this was our lesson:

We received with gratitude - We gave with love.

The kids drew a picture of their favorite gift and told why they were so grateful for it.

Then, they drew a second picture of the favorite gift they GAVE and told why it felt so good to give it.

Teaching the real meaning of exchanging gifts felt so good - but I didn't get to participate...so here is mine.

Every year, for the last few, I have said, "During the holiday clearance I am going to buy myself a quilted advent calendar - you know the kind that you can countdown to Christmas without consuming chocolate."

Every year, for the last few, I haven't.

This year, my mother surprised me with a hand quilted pocket advent calendar. It is my favorite gift. I received with gratitude.

I don't have a picture of the favorite gift I gave. It was a mini day calendar for a very close friend to celebrate how our relationship has grown and deepened this year. It felt good to recognize our connection. I gave with love.

What is the rest of the class show and telling?

A Sad Goodbye

I just came from Emilie's blog. She passed away.

Only days ago I was reading her devestatingly calm, heartbreaking last post filled with acceptance that she was going to die, that she would have to say goodbye to her husband and her boys and hello to her maker.

Tears streamed down my face as I read, unable to imagine the overwhelming conflict of emotions that must have existed within her as she typed. I wished I could see her face, if only to get a sense of how she was really feeling and, if it was at all possible, how best to respond with comforting words.

Now, I am weeping. I am crying like I haven't cried in a very long time - in 8 years in fact. I never knew Emilie. To be honest, I only had the blessed privilidge to begin reading and following her blog last month but the devestation within me is so real. The fact that I never met her face to face, is not a factor for the raw, clenching I feel withing my chest.

I remember this feeling, like the world is closing in and nothing you do or no-where you run will allow you to escape from your heartbreak.

My heart is breaking tonight for her husband Stephen and her two young boys.
My heart hurts knowing their road, once made of love and determination is now forever entwined with grief.

Please head over and give some support.

Alternative Christmas Traditions

"Why is she sleeping so late?" I wondered. It was Bear's first Christmas and I was overjoyed with possibility. Yes, she was a baby - 10 months old - to be exact, but still she NEVER slept this late in the morning. Smiling, I shrugged it off as one of those things babies do because it is the last thing you expect.

"I wish there was a red warning button that could alert us when she was going to sleep this long." I said as I rolled over to greet my husband on Christmas morning. Slight panic struck - Is she ok? Did she roll over onto one of her animals and get stuck? Can she breathe? Is she...

I couldn't finish the sentence. This wasn't the first time I was consumed with irrational thought when Bear's sleep patterns, eating habits, or any minute behavior was the slightest bit off her typical schedule. Typically, I washed it off with a cleansing head shake and a peek at the monitor. But today, I couldn't let it go. As I walked into her room and saw her back rise and fall with even breathing, I let my own out. I placed my hand gently on her back and that is when I realized she had a fever.

And - hence... a family tradition was born. Nearly, every holiday one of our children is sick or injured. Seriously-

• Bear's first Christmas she suffered a fever of 104.5, projectile vomiting, and a trip to the walk-in clinic.
• Her third Easter she went for an x-ray. We thought she broke her wrist when trying to put on one of those fancy elbow length gloves that accompany the even fancier dress. An untimely twist and fall to the floor left her hurting.*
• The Comedian's second Thanksgiving she deemed herself done with her crib. We woke to a BANG. She had climbed out and fell - landing directly on her head. Slight concussion and very lethargic the rest of the day.

Those are the big three, but truly - there seems always to be a cold, cough, slight fever or antibiotic on the major holidays.

Today - is no exception. The Comedian woke up CRANKY and warm. Sure enough - 101. She is sleeping right now (since 10am) in hopes that she might make it through the rest of the day with family.

(sigh) - well - at least we are a consistent family.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND STAY HEALTHY AND SAFE!

* - she acutually had "nursemaid's elbow". DH said there was a loud POP as the doctor put her elbow back in.