Threes

As a designer, I'm always looking for threes. A poster, an invitation, an announcement. Threes are pleasing to the eye.

Mother's Day

So many thoughts for this upcoming Mother's Day. I know it is going to be tough. We'll be celebrating our Jonah and Rachie in our arms and our Sarah in our hearts.  All three have made me search my heart and reach deeper than I'd ever imagined. I'm better person because of my kids.

But I'm not the only one who has a hard time on this day - and this post was just lovely:

http://www.messymiddle.com/2012/05/10/an-open-letter-to-pastors-a-non-mom-speaks-about-mothers-day/

I pray you can make it better down here

As someone who has struggled with explaining the concept of God to my kids, this line has been on my mind all day:

"As he often reminds me, you don’t have to believe in God to be Jewish, and in fact, Judaism cares much more about what we do than what we think or feel."
http://www.kveller.com/blog/parenting/friday-night-my-husband-is-an-atheist-but-hell-do-shabbat/

So cheers for doing. And living.

Shabbat shalom.

Beyond the pines

We cut down two pine trees a few months after we moved into this house. Their underbits scraggly and completely obscuring the already limited sun from the west.

All I could see was the ugly. I couldn't see past them.

Removing those trees made a remarkable difference. Afternoon sun now streams into the house. But it also showed us the next project: pachysandra. Without the protection of those trees, the ground cover became crunchy and dry, intermixed with small sections that maintained its lush green in pockets of shade. Another eyesore.

So last few days have been dedicated to digging up that leftover pachysandra, the roots a messy subway system. I've found my hands are far more efficient than any tool. It's a slow, repetitive process that is surprisingly soothing.

Once the clearing is done, I'm hoping to learn something about garden design. I'd like to put in a flower bed along the edge of the house. Something beautiful and fresh. But low enough on the horizon so I can still have my sunshine, too.

Let go

My sister came over and helped me tackle the wall of boxes in the living room. I was ready. It needed to be done. She was wonderful and efficient.

But it still felt paralyzing to find the odd baby item, nestled into the chaos of toys, clothing and mess. I've chosen to keep the infant things for now, despite a therapist's suggestion of tossing everything out and starting new if we decide to have more kids. (Yeah, I had to break up with her. She and I clearly didn't speak the same language.)

I'm not sure if its more courage or stupidity to even entertain the idea of getting pregnant again. But saying absolutely not brings tears to my eyes instantly. And they aren't tears of relief. So for now, its on the list of things that I am not allowed to decide right now.

Turns out that trauma completely blurs your sense of reality. For me, its been feeling like I've been startled. Except that rather than the sensation lasting a few seconds, it hangs on much longer. I'm currently trying to retrain my brain to learn exactly what is worth being upset about and what things just need to be let go.  

Floating

Yesterday, our sweet Sarah would have been 5 months old. Its hard not to think of the milestones that never come. No smiles, no giggles. No crawling. No amazing moments when they look you firmly in the eye and exclaim, "Mama!" It hurts just to type it.

I've been trying to make a conscious choice to focus on the good things happening with our family.  Jonah just got his first two-wheeled bike. He was ready last summer, but I held back, knowing I couldn't chase him while pregnant. He is thrilled with this next step of independence.

Rachel almost convinced us to buy her a two-wheeler. There was a 12-inch model at the store, and dude, she rode it like a boss. If it had been less money, I might have caved. But she has a trike which is more steady - and I was able to bribe her instead with a new purple horn.

The kids are going to start swimming lessons in a few more weeks. I'm not sure how much Rachel will pick-up, but leaving her out isn't an option. She would be an angry beast to find out that Jonah was swimming without her. Me too, me too.

I've discovered a lot of this post-loss grief stuff is about making choices to move on. I'm still getting sad and having moments where I'm angry at life in general. But I've discovered that some of it is under my control. Taking time for myself - making plans with friends - asking for help - and just generally making my needs important to me again. I think I've often fallen into the trap of putting everyone else first. Its been my survival tactic of being a SAHM. Keep the boat afloat and worry about myself later.  Except these days, its necessary to do both. Because if the mama falls apart and no one is steering, it doesn't matter if there is a boat. And floating in one place has never been my style.

Englishman in PA

Yesterday, I woke up to the news that a childhood classmate had died in a car accident. He was driving his family in a large Chevy Suburban when another driver hit him head on. Both he and his wife died. But in the back of his car were his three boys. All alive. Injured, yes. But alive.

I couldn't get his face out of my mind. We attended the same elementary school and had classes together.  We may have said three words to each other during all of high school.  But what I remember about him was that he was truly kind. He wasn't the sort of boy who flicked boogers on a girl to make her scream. He was the kind of kid who would purposely avoid hurling a ball at the head of a chubby girl during dodge ball. And really, during the '80s, that pretty much the best a fat girl could hope for during gym class. Small acts speak loudly.

As a parent, I mourn his loss. He'll never get to see what his boys will grow up to be. He'll never see them graduate high school. Go on a date. He won't be there to wipe away their tears.

And as a daughter, I mourn for his sons. They have been robbed of two loving parents. They will grow up in a world of  "would have, could have, should haves."

And as a woman who has had to bury her own daughter, I can't imagine the grief of his parents. Burying not one child, but two. Knowing that they have have the weight of the world on their shoulders to help their grandsons somehow find sense in the senseless, peace within this violence, and hope when everyone's hearts are broken.