herniated.

reasons.

the nebulizer.

severed.

Dearest boys,

It has been almost three days since I nursed you last. It's late late Sunday night and the last time you asked for milk was early early Friday morning. I came into your room and scooped you up in my arms and hugged you tight. (Sometimes I wish someone as proportionally big would scoop me up in their arms and hug me tight. Then again sometimes I wish someone would love me as much as I love you, too, but that would be impossible.)

I brought you into our room and we snuggled under the covers. You looked into my eyes and pointed at my chest and signed "milk" and as you started to nurse we both settled into each other, like those wooden animals where the baby elephant fits perfectly inside the mama.

The first couple months of breastfeeding you were the hardest of my life; then again your first couple months were the hardest of my life period. I didn't know if we'd make it. I didn't know if I'd make it. Your birth was a wake-up call to how much I am not really in control of anything that happens in life. No matter how much I try to do what is best, no matter how hard I try to provide the best possible life I can give you, no matter how much I love you, none of that matters sometimes. Sometimes life is just hard, and it has nothing at all to do with you or with me. It just is.

I might not have been able to give you my full attention because there are two of you; I might not have been able to take back the birth trauma; I might not have been able to make you "normal"; I might not have been able to be the perfect mom; but I could give you my milk.

I made a promise to you that we would make it six months. Once we passed that six month mark, I don't even know what happened. It was suddenly easy. My life wasn't completely ruled by the breastpump anymore, the pressure and stress was lifted and we just were. You were just babies who wanted milk and I had these breasts dripping with liquid gold.

I think I fell in love with you while nursing you.

Now it's been almost nineteen months. Nineteen months. Your Nana told me she stopped nursing my sisters and me when we could walk over and ask for it. She always told the story as if once that moment was reached it was somehow wrong. If we asked for it...what? It was creepy? Inappropriate?  When you started asking for it, I felt the exact opposite. "Finally!" I thought to myself. "I finally know exactly what you want and need." Breastfeeding is the reason you started communicating with me. "Milk" is the first sign you started making with your hands. First it was pointing at my chest, then signing, then "guh" - the word you both chose to mean milk.

We did it backwards, I guess, keeping the morning nursing session as the last remaining time you nursed. We've done a lot of things backwards, I guess, but that's ok. I loved starting my day close to you, feeling your warm little body curled up in mine. Sometimes you'd play with my hair; sometimes you'd touch each one of the freckles on my chest with your index finger; sometimes you'd stick your finger in my mouth and wait for me to bite down gently and you'd laugh with my nipple still in your mouth.

Friday night I stayed at a friend's house. I took my time in the morning and when I got home you were already up and rearing, running around like the little white rabbit, scurrying like you were late for something & muttering incoherent words to yourself. When you saw me you stopped cold in your tracks and looked up at me like I was the Queen of the Universe and you were in love with me. You smiled with your whole being and I scooped you up in my arms and hugged you so tight I thought we might become just one person. We didn't, and I let you down and you grabbed my finger and led me into your room to show me some thing or some other thing, some game you were playing with your brother, some blanket you carry around everywhere with you, some music, some toy.

You didn't ask for milk and I didn't offer.

This morning you woke up early, crying because of your teeth. You're getting your last ones in and they seem to hurt a lot more than the others for some reason. I scooped you up and kissed your forehead and carried you into bed with your Papa and me. You snuggled up next to me and fell quickly asleep. Suddenly the sun was up and you were tugging on my arm to help you off the bed. You went and pulled a stack of books off the shelf and carried them over to read next to us while your Papa and I tried to catch a few more minutes of precious sleep.

When your brother woke, you both went over to the little table and chairs, seated yourselves and asked me for a banana. You split one and a cup of almond milk.

You didn't point at my chest. You didn't sign "milk". You didn't say "guh". I didn't offer.

When you went down for your nap I told your Papa how long it had been since we had nursed. I cried and he held me. I wanted to run to your room, wake you up, take off my shirt and curl up with you, nurse you for the rest of the afternoon. But I didn't. I just cried and cried and my breasts leaked milk through my shirt and I thought about what this all means.

It's the first time that we've ever really been disconnected. First you were inside me, connected in every possible way. Then you were born, but still attached through the umbilical cord. In the beginning we were very close; you needed me for everything. To move you, to bathe and clothe you, to nourish you. Now you move faster than I can; you wash yourself and can almost dress yourself; now you help me cook dinner and feed yourself.

What am I now?

Part of me feels free. Part of me wants to blast Aretha Franklin and sing at the top of my lungs while jumping on the bed. Part of me feels guilty, that I'm not going to nurse you until you're 13 (joking, well, maybe). Part of me feels proud that we made it this far. Part of me feels empty, like I can feel the absence of you inside of me since you were born; nursing you I still felt somehow connected but now...

I'm not sure how I feel. I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel. All I know is I expected this to be so much more... something. This was such a non-event for you; no tears, no struggle, no nothing. This means you are no longer my little babies anymore; you are my boys. You are two independent little humans who wake up every day and do your own thing. I'm not sure what my place is exactly anymore, but I know enough to understand that this isn't about me. I'm not going to fight it. I'm just going to let you be.

You don't have to know it right now; you don't have to ever know it. I feel like I have been torn in two, deep deep inside; severed somehow, like when you were born.

I have a feeling this is what being a parent will always feel like. Mourning the passing of time; mourning the passing of moments that feel eternal; mourning the passing of the you I know better than I know myself to the you I have no understanding of.

I want you to know I love that new person I don't know very well yet just as much as the other one. More than I loved you yesterday; less than I will tomorrow.

The word for what has happened in French is sevrage. You have been sevré. Severed. It also translates as withdrawal, which is exactly how I feel. I feel shaky, anxious, nauseous, irritable. I have a massive headache and can't sleep. What if I am never pregnant again? What if I never nurse again? Ever? My breasts will hang limp and useless and empty. Devoid of purpose.

For now they are still leaking. Like a faucet, really. Every time I cry they start dripping which just makes the crying worse. My eyes will dry soon and so will my breasts. Then you'll start kindergarten and I'll feel severed all over again.

I just wish... well, Mike from Friends said it best, I think, so I'll leave you with his words, only slightly altered:

It can’t be any harder than this... I mean, if I had known the last time I saw you would be the last time, I... I would have stopped to memorize your face, the way you move, everything about you. If I had known the last time I nursed you would have been the last time... I never would have stopped.

Forever Yours,
Maman

mother of.

It was stronger than myself tonight, the urge. Like gravity I was drawn to you. I hesitated outside your door, listening, my breathing shallow as my heart began to race. I could hear you stirring, restless. The door creaked, as it always does, but it didn't bother me tonight. You startled and fixed your gaze on me as I stumbled in the dark, my eyes taking too long to adjust.

I lay down beside you and you pulled your little body closer, folding into my creases like we were puzzle pieces, and I felt whole in a way I haven't since you were inside me. Two bowls of smooth round wood stacked neatly underneath my taut belly, the texture of the weathered wood grain stretched in marks across my skin. We were one then, more than whole the three of us together. I had purpose and my future was straightforward.

Then you came and my belly hung loose in folds where we once were joined. Our holy trinity was broken and I was left cold and shamed on the manger floor, surrounded by hay and donkeys and in desperate need of frankincense and myrrh. I fumbled in the dark then, too, relying too heavily on my senses to try to find you. I thought I had lost you and assumed it was forever.

Tonight I see that I was wrong. You have been there all along.

You search for my hand and find it without looking. Your legs twitch a little as you drowse and your tongue clicks as it searches for my breast. Alas, in vain. You are already sleeping and I'm already too far gone as I feel your tiny chest rise and fall pressed against my body.

My eyes have adjusted now and I examine you in the waning light. I study your features; your brow, your fluttering eyelids, the curve of your nose, your parted lips, the way your hair falls across your forehead, and I bury my face in your neck, taking all of you in. You smell of wood. Of course you do. And sweat. And something warm but faintly sweet like cinnamon.

I close my eyes and trace my finger down your face like a map, trying desperately to find my way; would I be lost without you?

I wipe a tear (mine, not yours) from the hollow above your collarbone and breathe that shaky breath that comes soon after the sobbing has subsided. You exhale, too, and I wonder if we are not still more connected than I give us credit for.

It's too much, the love. The last time I opened up this much, you came barreling out of me. I thought that was the happy ending but something else got in instead. It buried itself deep under the surface and I closed myself off, thinking in was the way out. But there you are, so peaceful in your slumber and suddenly I'm split open like an oyster, both halves pulsing and I realize I've had it backwards all this time. I thought I was all shell, but somehow it got under my skin. It's calcified in concentric layers and I've never felt so baroque.

All this time I thought I had become small and calloused; I have watched from a distance as I fold in on myself again and again like an origami heart. The truth is, I have become small and calloused. But tonight I see that it's you, the oyster and I'm the wild pearl. I'm so sorry to have put you through so much trauma and all for a grain of sand. I've let myself out now. Now we can all heal, together but separate. Distance is good for all of us, I think. I was you and now you're me and I watch us becoming something so different than anything I've ever known and it's excruciating to love an extension of you so much more than you've ever loved yourself.

I kiss your chin and touch your cheek and tell you I love you and then I'm gone.

silence.

same story.

pick your poison.

a penny for your thoughts.

the note.

grateful.

gratitude
Syllabification: grat·i·tude
Pronunciation: /ˈgratəˌt(y)o͞od
noun The quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness: she expressed her gratitude to the committee for their support
Origin late Middle English: from Old French, or from medieval Latin gratitudo, from Latin gratus 'pleasing, thankful'.

grateful
Syllabification: grate·ful
Pronunciation: /ˈgrātfəl
adjective 1Feeling or showing an appreciation of kindness; thankful: I’m very grateful to you for all your help 1.1 archaic Received or experienced with gratitude; welcome: enjoying the grateful shadeDerivatives
gratefully (adverb) There will be a cake sale and donations for this will be gratefully accepted.
gratefulness (noun) I remember it with joy and gratefulness for all the times spent there.
Origin mid 16th century: from obsolete grate 'pleasing, agreeable, thankful' (from Latin gratus) + -ful.

(This is a running, rambling list, coming straight from the heart. I might find myself grateful for the same thing more than once throughout the course of this journey, but I'll try to express the different reasons I am feeling particularly appreciative of each particular instance. The beginning of this list is at the very bottom. Scroll down and work your way up to the most recent expression of gratefulness.)

175 I am grateful for the moments that come after bath time but before bedtime; they are my absolute favorite moments of every day, where I am the happiest version of me, watching my boys explore and play and laugh and laugh and laugh and cuddle and kiss and snuggle and read together and cozy up under the blankets and wait as the lullabies lull them to sleep.
174 I am grateful for living under the same roof as my mom; I never ever thought I'd say this as an adult, but sometimes when you are sick or hurting, you just need your mom; having her upstairs is convenient and comforting.
173 I am grateful for a mom who is a physical therapist; it is amazing how healing her hands can be.
172 I am grateful for rituals; they bring meaning to days that can often feel meaningless.
171 I am grateful for nail polish; it is so silly and simple but seeing color on my fingers just makes me feel young again, brightens my day and makes me smile.
170 I am grateful for watermelon; what a perfect summer treat.
day thirty:

169 I am grateful for my cats; I love them so much.
168 I am grateful for making out with my husband.
167 I am grateful for non-verbal communication.
166 I am grateful for language and for watching my children learn how to speak.
165 I am grateful for my favorite sweater; I wear you almost every day, you keep me warm, you make me feel comfortable, you make me feel like me.
day twenty-nine:

164 I am grateful for having the entire house to myself - to myself! - no one else here but sleeping babies; I want to run around naked drinking wine, dancing & belting Celine Dion.
163 I am grateful for a long hot shower.
162 I am grateful for laughing until I cry until my sides are splitting until I can't tell which are tears and which is saliva.
161 I am grateful for laughing harder than I have ever laughed in my life, thanks to Arlo giving me incredibly intense kisses and Owen cracking up watching; I have never heard that sound come out of my mouth before - it sounded like holiday bells mixed with a waterfall and it was awesome in every sense of the word.
160 I am grateful for falling asleep last night with Tippen curled up next to me (he was the little spoon, of course).
day twenty-eight:

159 I am grateful for CKK6; you feel like butter between my fingers.
158 I am grateful for Tippen jumping up on the bed and then down again with no assistance.
157 I am grateful for a husband who supports me exploring and growing and trying new things.
156 I am grateful for sisters who watch my babies so I can go throw for a couple of hours.
155 I am grateful for finding someone to talk to who truly listens and helps me make positive changes in my life.
day twenty-seven:

154 I am grateful for swinging on the porch swing with my boys' heads on my lap, watching the late afternoon sunlight filter through the blackberries.
153 I am grateful that I do not have to be afraid of suicide bombers or rebels shooting down airplanes over my town.
152 I am grateful for the fact that I've never been in a plane crash.
151 I am grateful for my health.
150 I am grateful for being alive.
day twenty-seven:

149 I am grateful for letting go.
148 I am grateful for alone time.
147 I am grateful for true friends, who you can not talk to for years and then pick up again like the last time you saw them was earlier in the day.
146 I am grateful for mediation, the way it focusing outward energy being wasted on less important things inward, promoting peace and healing.
145 I am grateful for yoga, the way it challenges the mind way more than the body sometimes, engendering patience every time you just stay on the mat and let things unfold.
day twenty-six:

144 I am grateful for a husband who is constantly reminding me that there is a solution to everything, even the hardest things.
143 I am grateful for a husband who takes care of our cat as one of our children.
142 I a grateful for a husband who is also a lover who is also a teacher who is also a best friend.
141 I am grateful for a husband who is as creative in the kitchen as he is with his art.
140 I am grateful for a husband who takes my children on runs in the double stroller and to the park and to the aquarium and to the children's museum.
139 I am grateful for a husband who sits next to me and listens on the bad days and holds me tight and tells me I don't ruin everything I touch.
138 I am grateful for a husband who wakes up and takes care of the kids while I sleep for a couple of hours, helps me with them throughout the morning and early afternoon, works hard until late at night and then comes home and works on his art until the wee hours of the morning before starting it all over again; I don't know where the man who needed to sleep 14 hours a night went, but this super husband is crazily amazing and I don't thank him enough.
day twenty-five:

137 I am grateful for finding inspiration in adversity.
136 I am grateful for my arms and legs; I appreciate them now more than ever and want to strengthen them and use them every way possible.
135 I am grateful for living in a basement; hot damn being cool feels wonderful on a 95-degree day.
134 I am grateful for how my body feels when I eat clean.
133 I am grateful for the opportunity my children are getting to be around their elders; it engenders compassion and respect in a society that seems more and more to ignore the wise entirely.
132 I am grateful for people who wholeheartedly follow their truth; I hope to get their someday, too.
131 I am grateful for people who take their creative ideas and put them into practice and then share their real, tangible creativity with others; creativity is catching.
130 I am grateful for the company of best friends.
129 I am grateful for giving.
128 I am grateful for the way if you take ten seconds to ask how someone's day is going, you'll probably learn a whole lot about them.
127 I am grateful for crafty people.
126 I am grateful for incredibly kind strangers.
day twenty-four:

125 I am grateful for wet sloppy kisses and super tight hugs from my boys.
124 I am grateful for amazing veterinaries.
123 I am grateful for splashing in the pool in my swimsuit.
122 I am grateful that everyone else in my life still has all their limbs.
121 I am grateful that Tippen is still alive.
day twenty-three:

120 I am grateful for three and a half hour naps.
119 I am grateful for the health of all of my friends and family; we are a healthy bunch and I appreciate it so damn much.
118 I am grateful for people who create things that try to make other people happy.
117 I am still so grateful for my the nursing relationship I have with my children.
116 I am grateful for making homemade popsicles with my babes.
115 I am grateful for my ridiculous kitties, our original babies.
day twenty-two:

114 I am incredibly grateful for Arlo asking for milk this morning; my heart just about burst into a million pieces; I was not ready to wean yet and spent every second of our nursing session this morning being present and completely where I needed and wanted to be.
113 I am grateful for black gold; seriously compost is the shiz-nit.
112 I am grateful for all the dozens of comics inspirations that happen every hour of every day in this house and the outlet that is drawing.
111 I am grateful for the very end of a run, that feeling of accomplishment and pride.
110 I am grateful for our old stomping ground and the amazing neighbors and friends who are still looking out for us.
109 I am grateful for a husband who can just hug me and make everything seem better.
108 I am grateful for little boys who eagerly help me re-pot plants and water the garden.
107 I am grateful for morning meditation; my oh my how it sets the day.
106 I am grateful for listening to your intuition and realizing you have known the answers all along.
105 I am grateful for every second of every time I get to nurse my boys.
day twenty-one:

104 I am grateful for my body; every single part of it.
103 I am grateful for weaning.
102 I am grateful for 18 and a half months of nursing my boys; I never ever ever imagined we would make it this far; I cherished every moment and will never forget being physically connected with them.
101 I am grateful for a roof over my head.
100 I am grateful for tomato plants; and peppers and beans and melons and cucumbers.
99 I am grateful for naked frisbee.
98 I am grateful for watching my kids devour watermelon and enjoy every last bite down through the white of the rind.
day twenty:

97 I am grateful for yoga and the way it helps me focus on the moment; I love just breathing and focusing on the task at hand.
96 I am grateful for a clean house and bills paid.
95 I am grateful for a squeeze on the shoulder from my husband while I'm meditating; it was a birthing technique we started practicing about half way through my pregnancy designed to train me to relax during labor when he touched my shoulders a certain way - after all this time it still helps my breath deepen and my pulse drop and my mind clear.
94 I am grateful for children who help me put dirty laundry in the hamper and clean clothes in the dryer and then help take it out when it's done; and who pick up their toys and books and put them away when asked; and who follow me around holding the cord to the vacuum cleaner every step of the entire house.
93 I am grateful for toddlers who do Downward Facing Dog and Child's Pose and Happy Baby without me even needing to show them how.
day nineteen:

92 I am grateful (albeit jealous) for the language my boys are creating with each other.
91 I am grateful for capes.
90 I am grateful for nectarines.
89 I am grateful for people who truly listen.
88 I am grateful for new readers.
day eighteen:

87 I am grateful for servers who just get it.
86 I am grateful for rainy day walks.
85 I am grateful for someone painting your nails bright colors with fun designs.
84 I am grateful for phenomenal friends.
83 I am grateful for drunch.
day seventeen:

82 I am grateful for gratitude, because it just might have changed my life.
81 I am grateful for Arlo - that he exists; that he is alive; for the way his body twitches in the moments between wakefulness and sleep; for the way he fights slumber with impressive determination but then suddenly decides to surrender and just. lets. go. his limbs limp, a rag doll abruptly abandoned mid-play for something better as he succumbs to the universe; for his deep, raw, course, vulgar laugh that sometimes almost makes you blush; for his compact little body, all motion and conviction; for his steadfastness and certitude, all pluck and scrap until you think you can't handle it a second longer and then suddenly you're knocked off your feet under a deluge of compassion as he smothers you with affection; for the way his big blue eyes make you feel exactly like a wave somewhere out in that vast blue ocean, like you're a part of something so much bigger than yourself, and you have to stop whatever you're doing at that exact moment to pick him up and hold him close because it's just too much.
80 I am grateful for Owen - that he exists; that he is alive; for the way he exhales deeply soon after falling asleep; for the way he grasps my index finger like he's never letting go; for his pure raw emotions, never hiding who he is or how he feels because that's just what he does; for his laughter that shatters into a million little pieces of light that scatter across the horizon like sunrise, giving meaning to the whole damn sky; for his curiosity and the glimmer he gets in his eye when he is about to do something he knows he shouldn't; for his eternal smile and boundless love; for his birth, our birth; for his resilience, our resilience; for never questioning his existence (like I do every minute of every hour of every day), truly immersed in the now is all there is; for his unwavering faith in my ability to be his mother (even when I don't deserve it); for the way, even though most of the time I feel my heart fall crooked when I think about all the things I could have done better, when he looks at me with those big brown eyes it's like falling into warm honey and I'm stuck exactly where I'm supposed to be.
day sixteen:

79 I am grateful for rediscovering pictures of myself pregnant 34 weeks and 4 days with my twins; I have never been so sure of my purpose on this earth, never so in the moment, never so proud and in awe of my beautiful body, never so full of faith in the universe, never so happy in my entire life.
78 I am grateful for strawberries at the farmers market these days; holy moly are they good!
77 I am grateful for thirty day fitness challenges; very effective motivator.
76 I am grateful for Tillamook Oregon Blueberry ice cream served with crushed graham crackers and Washington blueberries; you better believe I'm enjoying every bite.
day fifteen:

75 I am grateful for seeing Arlo gently help Owen climb up next to him on a lawn chair and then give him the sweetest hug.
74 I am grateful for employees at internet conglomerates who are not complete a-holes even at the end of a 58 minute phone conversation.
73 I am grateful for faces smeared with blueberry juice and hummus.
72 I am grateful for this new stage where the boys wave at me and say bye bye when I leave at nap- or bedtime, stay quietly in their bed and fall quickly asleep.
71 I am grateful for toddlers who tell me through signs and babble that they want me to roll out their own yoga mat next to mine so they can do yoga with me.
day fourteen:

70 I am grateful for a meal with no food thrown on the floor.
69 I am grateful for the hilarious babbling going on in our house right now.
68 I am grateful for watching my son draw; even squiggles take concentration.
67 I am grateful for the dreaming that comes with buying a lottery ticket.
day thirteen:

66 I am grateful for watching their eyes get big and round as the babes try Rainier cherries for the very first time (they promptly asked for more).
65 I am grateful for giggling with my boys as they go for their first swing ever on the porch swing.
64 I am grateful for a change in perspective on our housing situation - starting to view all the ridiculousness as endless creative writing and drawing inspiration!
63 I am grateful for kind leasing agents who were super patient with our babies as we toured an apartment complex.
day twelve:

62 I am grateful for fits of pure wholehearted belly-shaking laughter.
61 I am grateful for getting to watch as my boys try new foods for the very first time ever (today it was cantaloupe and they absolutely loved it).
60 I am grateful for naked babies running around the yard playing with water.
59 I am grateful that a candlelit shower can be almost just as relaxing as a candlelit bath.
58 I am grateful for summer.
57 I am grateful for the smell of fresh cut grass and the feeling of accomplishment after mowing a much overgrown lawn.
56 I am grateful for a house with one less person in it, even just for a couple of days.
day eleven:

55 I am grateful for watching my boys walk hand in hand for the very first time, giggling and cracking up every time their fingers touched; my heart just about melted out of my chest!
54 I am grateful for the Cascades.
53 I am grateful for hiking backpacks that help you carry your children to some of the most beautiful places on earth.
52 I am grateful for chocolate chip pancakes.
51 I am grateful for eating out of a bowl I made with my own hands.
day ten:

50 I am grateful for five years of crazy married life with the best friend I've ever had.
49 I am grateful for finding a partner who still makes my heart race and my body tingle just by touching my hand after all this time.
48 I am grateful for walks home in the dark holding hands and eating ice cream bars.
47 I am grateful for a hilarious movie playing right when we got to the movie theater on an impulse decision.
46 I am grateful for kind servers.
45 I am grateful for people who gave us gift certificates to nice restaurants for the boys' birthdays.
44 I am grateful for babysitters.
43 I am grateful for the quantity and quality of writing/comic material that happens hourly in our current living situation.
42 I am grateful for Costco starting to sell Honest Co. diapers & wipes.
41 I am grateful for getting to sleep in until 11.
day nine:

40 I am grateful for freckles.
39 I am grateful for really nice gardening gloves.
38 I am grateful for a huge backyard where my boys can run around and explore while I attack the blackberry invasion.
37 I am grateful for the sun setting after 9pm.
36 I am grateful for picnics in the park on a sunny afternoon.
day eight:

35 I am grateful for water; drinking it, showering in it, swimming in it, soaking in it, watching the sun set over it - I am truly an Aquarius.
34 I am grateful for the people who yelled words of encouragement out their car window as I ran uphill pushing two heavy toddlers in a stroller this afternoon; and for the old man who smiled and told me to keep keeping in shape as I ran with the boys yesterday.
33 I am grateful for American Sign Language and the way it helps me communicate with my children on a deeper level.
32 I am grateful for doing handstands in the grass at the park while my toddlers run around waving sticks and squealing with delight every time an airplane goes by.
31 I am grateful for amazing pediatricians who make my family feel like the most important family in the whole wide world; who have been there since the day they were born; who literally helped save Owen's life (and mine); who carry a picture of my children in her wallet and left our last appointment ever with her as our doctor this morning with tears in her eyes. (We will miss you as our pediatrician, but I haven't shed a tear because I feel deep in my bones that this isn't goodbye - I think we'll see you sooner than I think we think.)

day seven:

30 I am grateful for the way Owen cracks himself up and laughs with his whole damn being.
29 I am grateful for friends & family who donate to a really important cause.
28 I am grateful for comfortable running shoes.
27 I am grateful for double jogging strollers.
day six:

26 I am grateful for bright red toenails.
25 I am grateful for a husband who takes the kids in the morning and lets me sleep for a couple of hours - I would literally be a zombie without this luxury.
24 I am grateful for Baron Baptiste and his words of wisdom and encouragement.
23 I am grateful for white wine.
22 I am grateful for rainy mornings turned sunny afternoons.
day five:

21 I am grateful for peeking in to check on my boys and finding them fast asleep, holding hands.
20 I am grateful that the father of my children is the best damn papa I could ever ask for (Happy Father's Day, mon chéri).
19 I am grateful for the way I feel better when I take my vitamins.
18 I am grateful for bacon (from happy, organic pigs, of course) and everything that can be done with it, but especially BLTs and bacon + bleu mac & cheese.
17 I am grateful for people who come up with fun, creative & motivational ways to get back in shape.
16 I am grateful for the way Arlo's body twitches right after he's fallen asleep.
day four:

15 I am grateful for two beautiful boys who know how to light up a room; who smile with their whole bodies; who dance like nobody is watching when really everybody is; who laugh from their bellies; who run as fast as they can to splash in a puddle; who can spend an hour playing with great-grandpa's walker or a balloon; who eat their weight in blueberries; who give the best, most slobbery kisses; who love deeply & recklessly and with no abandon.
14 I am grateful for that feeling I get on the wheel like I'm finding the shape the clay was always meant to be; for being so engaged with every step of the process that time becomes an illusion; for finding flow and being exactly where I need to be.
13 I am grateful for Liz freaking Duarte.
12 I am grateful for friends who create amazing nonprofits and host wicked fundraisers.
11 I am grateful for spinach dip & ciabatta.
day three:

10 I am grateful for sisters who truly listen and care deeply.
9 I am grateful for chocolate ice cream.
8 I am grateful for kind bus drivers who smile when the doors open and they see little kids waiting to come on board.
7 I am grateful for my crazy cats; even when they knock over the dry cat food dish and the babies dash to stuff as many pieces as humanly possible in their little mouths before I can get to both of them & yes, I am grateful even for Napoleon.
6 I am grateful for blueberries; how much my boys love them & how much time they spend playing/eating with them.
day two:

5 I am grateful for friends who embrace all of me, every last raw fiber of me.
4 I am grateful for access to nutritious, local, life-sustaining food; for the ability not just to feed my children but to teach them to feed themselves; for the time and space and access to resources to allow me to experiment and innovate and create in the kitchen; for the chance to share the food I've prepared with the people I love the most.
3 I am grateful for a roof over my head; one with lush green through the windows, hot water in the pipes and a separate room for my boys.
2 I am grateful for a partner who tells me I am beautiful even when I feel the most profoundly ugly and who loves me even on my darkest days.
1 I am grateful for my two beautiful children; that they are alive and in good health and well on their way in the pursuit of happiness.
day one (Thursday, June 12, 2014):

gratitude.

I have been thinking about gratitude a lot lately, probably because I have also been thinking about how terrible things have been for the past couple of years, full of a seemingly endless series of traumatic and stressful events.

I have been thinking of how very different I handled the very first of all of these traumatic events compared to how I handle stressful day-to-day events now and the contrast is striking.

When one of my twin boys was born blue and not breathing and spent his first twenty-four days in the hospital, I was stressed and often sad or overwhelmed, of course; but I was also extremely confident that everything was going to work out, with this incredibly positive attitude and approach to every decision or event of each of those twenty-four days. When one of his doctors came to tell us the news that the brain damage from his oxygen deprivation gave him only a 30% chance of having a life with a limited disability (meaning a 60% chance that he would have serious physical or mental handicaps that would severely limit his life), I remember telling the doctor that if I had a 30% chance of winning the lottery I would play every damn day. I felt so overwhelmingly grateful that he was alive at all that a 30% chance felt like something to be incredibly grateful for.

Today, I grumble about almost anything. I grumble when I wake up because I'm so tired; I grumble when it's a mealtime because I have to figure out what to make and make it and serve it and play referee throughout the meal and clean it all up afterwards; I grumble when I'm putting the boys to bed; I grumble when they're in bed because I have all this other stuff to do - or I have all this stuff I want to do and don't have the time - or have nothing to do and wish I was doing something. I even grumble in my dreams.

What has changed? I have thought for a long time that what changed was myself from naive to jaded, but I am thinking these days that it might really be something much more profound. I have stopped being grateful. I have stopped taking enough time to pause, to reflect, to appreciate.

Then I saw this: Want to be happy? Be grateful.

It got me thinking even more about "grateful living" and living a life of gratefulness. Compared to where I currently find myself, it sounds like a long, patient journey. But it also sounds like an incredibly pleasant one, and one that can bring wonderful changes to myself, to others, to my community, to the world. Everyone benefits from being grateful.

So I'm taking a small step that will hopefully encourage many more. I am going to start recording what I am grateful for every day and sharing it with you. I am going to drop the thinking and analyzing and write from the heart. My hope is that knowing I will be writing it out and sharing it with others will encourage me to reflect on it more often; that even possibly you reading about it will encourage you to find something to be grateful for yourself; and that you might even share your gratitude with others who might share it with others who might share it with others and that gratitude might spread like wildfire.

I'm already grateful for the opportunity here. :) Let's get going.

happy halloween.

seriously.

sleeps like a...

best dressed.

tip: jot down memorable moments.

If you are a new parent and you are anything like me, you probably have one of these lying around somewhere:

A beautiful baby journal that you got months before your due date. You probably spent countless hours fantasizing about recording your precious angel's every move.

Until you had the baby. Then the journal was abruptly shoved in that pile on your desk of white onesies you were going to decorate and ink pads you were going to use to imprint baby's hands and feet every week. Hah! Instead your life is a constant blur of poop and spit up and now pureed spinach you somehow find in your ears (how did they manage that?) and you have long forgotten that beautiful blank baby journal.

You know that saying. The best time to plant a tree was ten years ago. The second best time is today.

We don't all have time to get out there and dig the holes and plant the trees and make them pretty and make sure they're watered and maintained. And that's ok. While you're in the thick of this crazy whirlwind that is the first year of your baby's life, you aren't expected to spend hours you don't have filling out a baby journal. But at some point life will calm down a bit and you will have the time (or at least that's what they tell me), and when that day comes there is an easy way to remember all those moments that seemed to pass by in an instant.

Grab a simple crappy wall calendar from the dollar bin the next time you're at the supermarket, and jot down the memorable events as they happen.

Just a few words, shorthand, something to help you remember what was going on. Baby doubled their birth weight, baby sat up, baby ate asparagus for the first time. You get the picture.

Keep it in the room you are most often in when baby does something memorable; where you eat or play for example. Make sure there is a pen next to the calendar at all times.

If you are really on top of it, keep a camera next to the calendar, and whenever your sweet babe does something memorable, snap a few photos before you jot it down. This not only forever preserves the memory of your baby doing something exciting, but together with your calendar it can be used as a chronological reference later on for when the other bajillion pictures of your baby were taken.

Later you can easily look back at this and fill in that baby journal as if you never even missed a beat. I promise, your baby will never know you cheated and filled out the book when they were three (or thirteen)!

What are you waiting for? Make those memories, people!

trick: try side sitting.

Some babies just don't like tummy time no matter how you try to entice them. With special toys, laying on your chest, with snazzy books, on a play mat. You can make it seem like the most fun activity in the whole wide world and still they fuss and whine and cry it out any time you put them on their stomach.

The goal of tummy time is to work the chest and arm muscles in preparation of crawling and it may seem like the only way, but it's not. Helping your baby side sit is another great way to build the muscles of the upper body and help them get ready to crawl. Plus it helps them learn to eventually transition from sitting to crawling on their own later down the road.

Seat baby in front of you facing you.

Turn baby's right leg so their knee is down in the center and their foot is pointing out to their right, just like the left one. Position baby's body towards their left and place their hands out in front of them to the side.

The further away from their body the hands (and the closer their face to the floor), the more strength needed to keep them stable. Start with them close to their body and progressively move them further away to build strength. 


This is usually more tolerated than tummy time and it is easier to distract baby in this position by reading stories or playing with toys. It is also easier to do small little sessions of side sitting without causing a total upset - if baby starts getting fussy, simply move them back to sitting. It is less of a total transition from being on their tummies.

Make sure to switch sides to build strength equally in both arms.

Happy sitting!

teething pains.

Someone once told me they read that if someone were to go through teething as an adult, it would be so painful that it would literally cause them to go insane. I don't know if this is true. That same person told me that this is why we get teeth before we can remember, so we aren't conscious of the pain; I'm pretty sure my babes are conscious of the pain and I'm pretty sure we get teeth when we're so little so we can start to eat solids, but maybe we're both right.

Either way, my babies might someday forget how painful the process is, but I sure won't. It is literally driving me insane. Teething babies x 2 = no sleep in the entire household and it is starting to take its toll. Don't expect anything profound out of me until this whole process is over, or at least until Arlo's first two teeth finally poke all the way through.

the stuff of dreams.

Arlo was taking his nap on the bed upstairs when a neighbor starting using a saw. I thought the high pitched sound was my baby screaming and my heart started to pound. I immediately jumped to my feet as my thoughts raced trying to find what could possibly be so wrong to make him scream that intensely. Since birth he has often woken up mid-scream, as if in the middle of the worst nightmare imaginable, but he's only six months old. What could he possibly be dreaming of? The screams are piercing and with every one I can feel little cracks riddling their way through my heart; I've been just waiting for the day when it finally shatters and I lose it.

I run to the stairs and as I pass an open window realize that it's just a saw. I take a deep breath, go peer in at him, calm myself down and come back downstairs.

An hour later he's still asleep. Napping has never been my boys' forte. They are difficult to put down and rarely stay asleep more than a half an hour. It was a scorcher outside, and the upstairs of our unshaded brick house must have been in the mid-eighties. I started to wonder if he was still alive up there and again made the mad dash up the stairs to check if he was ok.

As I approached the bed, I couldn't see his tiny chest moving at all and tears started rolling down my cheeks as I lunged towards him. The floor creaked under my weight and he stirred and exhaled. I stopped short and had to stable myself on the bed as the blood rushed back to my extremities and the adrenaline faded. I wiped my eyes and held my hands over my heart, so happy he was fine and feeling silly for having overreacted.

Still, something didn't feel right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I was shaken up by the scare and didn't want to wake him, so I crept back downstairs and found my husband in the living room.

One minute later, as I'm telling my husband what had just happened, hands still over my racing heart, I hear it. A loud thump. I'm running even before I hear the screaming. That's what had been out of place! I hadn't surrounded him with pillows like I always do to make sure he doesn't roll off the bed!

He's face down in a giant pile of my husband's clothes and he's shaking and crying, and I'm shaking and crying and holding him so close I worry he might not be able to breathe, but I can't let go or loosen my hold. My husband is right behind me and sits on the bed next to us. I'm rocking and crying and shushing my poor baby, until my husband points out that Arlo is completely fine. He is smiling and laughing and making ba ba sounds, reaching for his papa to give him a bisou. I can't stop shaking and rocking and shushing and crying.

"Can I hold him for a bit?" my husband asks.

And I can't let him. I can't let go. It takes me a good five minutes until I finally relent and let him peel my knuckle-white fingers off his poor little body. That's when I suddenly remember we have a second baby and my husband calls out to me as I'm sprinting back downstairs.

Owen's fine, bouncing contentedly in his little chair, smiling at the world around him. I scoop him up and rock him, still shaking and crying. I cry because I let Arlo fall out of bed. Because he is the baby I didn't mess up and here I am letting him get hurt. Because Owen is the baby I did mess up and he is ok. He is breathing, he is alive, he is bouncing and smiling and for all intents and purposes normal when there is no reason he should be. I cry because I have two fat little healthy monsters and some people don't ever even get the blessing of one. Because an old classmate was recently found dead in the break room of the hospital where he was a resident; no foul play, no medical conditions, just dead, and it has made me hyper-aware of how fragile life is. I cry because life is short and terrifying and devastatingly beautiful and overwhelming and simple and I am way too lucky for my own good.

When my husband wanders downstairs with Arlo and sees me clutching Owen for dear life there is a moment when a panicked look takes over his eyes and I can't even make out through the sobs that he's okay and I'm just an unnecessary mess.

He takes the boys and tells me to take a few minutes to calm myself down. I try, but the sobbing and shaking keep coming back. I can't stop crying because I know that if my own heart breaks, I will somehow find a way to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. But I've brought these little beings into the world and they have their own little beating hearts and someday they will be riddled with their own cracks just waiting to shatter. I can protect them in every way I possibly can and they still will get hurt, physically and mentally. I can avoid thinking about it at all costs, but still someday they, too, will die. I am overwhelmed with guilt and the selfishness of having wanted a child so badly without really understanding that my precious innocent little babies feel pain, too.

If there is some form of a god out there, this must be how he feels about us. It all boils down to the paradox of free will. We want our children to grow up free to become whomever they wish to be, and yet want so terribly for them to choose the right path. I so want to give them a fighting chance to find their own ways, but as they get older there will be much bigger booboos than just falling off the bed and I won't always be there to comfort them. Nor will they need or want me to.

It's rough stuff, this being a parent. It's your wildest dream and most vivid nightmare all wrapped up into one eternal sleepless night.