Sunday, August 16, 2015

Welcome to the World

Me and Peanut
Two years ago, almost to the date, Mike and I set off on an adventure to see the world and circumnavigate the globe. I can remember sitting in an airport in Belgium, hearing the flight attendant speaking French over the loud speaker, and feeling butterflies in my stomach. I had always wanted to travel around the world and I was really doing it and it was those French words that made the moment real.

It was not in our plans to move to Los Angeles when we were finished traveling. We both had jobs waiting in New York City. Between the two of us we had big social lives with wonderful friends, a writing group, a canoe, Sunday dinners at Mike's parents house in Jersey. We could renew our gym memberships and Park Slope Co-Op memberships and get back to the life we spent years carving out for ourselves in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

We were in Vietri, Italy for our birthdays that year, staying at a beautiful apartment we rented through Airbnb that looked out over the Amalfi Coast. When we walked in we spotted a birthday crown with the number '32' left over from someone else's festivities. Mike brought that crown to me the morning I woke up on my 32nd birthday and we marveled out how lucky we were to have found such a special place to celebrate our 32nd and 33rd birthdays. It was also the day I brought up children and Mike did not. Hours after I had put down that heavy crown and we had cruised along the cliffs edge of the rocky coast, we found ourselves in an argument. We had been together six years, married almost a year and our timelines for when to start a family were very different. We both knew deciding to travel would push back that chapter for us, but neither one of us had asked the other how far back. Had we had the fight in Brooklyn, it might have lasted much longer and ended more dramatically. But the best thing traveling gave us was the ability to drop our arguments quickly because on the road we needed each other too much to stay angry or hold a grudge. We got good at zeroing in on what we were really saying instead of staying in reaction. I felt hurt and angry that I wanted children much sooner than Mike, but wearing a crown with my age on it that morning had triggered that dreaded fear of the biological clock. Tick tock. I was scared to wait too long.
Mike & I, Amalfi Coast, Italy 2013

After Italy, we traveled through Andalucia Spain, all over Morocco, had a layover in Dubai, and traveled through central India for a month before heading on up towards Northern India to McLeod Ganj. We were staying at a little hotel in the middle of the mountains with no heat but a hell of a view and the though of having children came up again but this time it was Mike who had arrived at some moment. The fear of having children and what we could provide and when we could provide all seemed to dissipate while traveling through Morocco and India. The children we saw in these countries did not have much, but most of them were happy and all of them were resilient. We decided  together that we wanted children soon and for the same reasons, reasons based out of love and gratitude as opposed to fear.

It was towards the end of the trip in New Zealand, when staying with two friends and their beautiful and funny children that the idea to move to LA popped in our heads. After all we had seen and experienced, going back to our same lives in Brooklyn did not feel right even though it would have been comfortable. We wanted to try something else - LA, maybe even Colorado. We came home, to my home, and a few days later celebrated my brother's engagement at a bar with my whole family. Kids were running around, babies were being passed, and we felt it was the right place to be for the next chapter. We flew back to New York and packed up half of our stuff just to see how it went. (I had some cold feet.) The night before we drove back to LA, my mother told she had breast cancer and was going to have a double mastectomy.

We raced across the country to be home for her surgery and once we arrived, the race never seemed to stop. There were bridal showers and baby showers and failed job interviews and a juggling of jobs. There was a struggle to get back on our feet that without my Dad's help, would not have even been possible. As I tried to get my footing in LA, everywhere I stepped I seemed to sink just a little bit deeper. Our money was gone, our debt was rising, and all of the freedom and confidence we experienced on the road was in short supply as we tried to carve out a new life. On a whim, we adopted a dog - the best damn dog on the planet - and it felt like that ache for children was somehow soothed for the time being because clearly we would now have to put that off for a while.  A month later, we found out I was pregnant.

Maple jumped into bed with me the morning of June 18th
and licked my face as if to say, "You got this, girl."
Pregnancy was hard and long. Fear was present. How are we going to afford a baby? Where are we going to live? What will happen with my dreams to publish a brilliant piece of writing? How the hell am I going to get through childbirth?  I didn't have the answers for the first few questions but I knew the answer to the last - with lots of stretching. At 11 weeks pregnant, I started taking pre-natal yoga classes. Despite wanting children, I have always been terrified of childbirth and everything that goes with it. But I worked at it. I stretched and breathed and meditated and visualized. I hired a doula and wrote a birth plan. By 34 weeks I was ready to have a drug-free vaginal birth, which is also the same time we learned that our baby was breech and if she did not turn in the next two weeks, they would schedule a Cesarean.

I tried everything. Handstands, swimming, yoga positions, acupuncture, moxabustion, and chiropractic treatments. But the baby never budged. I was offered a version, (where they manually turn the baby from the outside) but after doing our research and paying attention to our gut instincts, we decided not to do the version, even though it meant for an increased risk of a C-section. At 38 weeks, she still hadn't turned. Hugely disappointed and now more scared than ever, I made peace with the facts and we scheduled the surgery just shy of 40 weeks. I let go of all my visualizations and anticipation for all the surprises and mysteries that labor brings to make room for a new anticipation - a definitive due date...which a couple days later was moved up to 39 weeks. We had one week to get ready.

June 18th // 39 weeks
We stopped organizing and "getting ready" and went to the beach with Maple. We went to dinner and saw a movie. We cuddled on the couch and watched as much comedy as possible. I cried a lot and fought off a panic or two. The day before the surgery my doctor did another ultrasound just to be sure she was still breech. Sure enough she was. For some reason I asked the doctor where her legs were and it turned out one was down in my pelvis along with the cord. She was a footling breech, (which I knew because of where she kicked)! My doctor was glad we had decided against the version, since it very likely could have ended up in an emergency C-section if they even would have attempted it. There was relief in knowing our gut instincts had been right. We did not want to force this baby into a position she did not naturally put herself in for 39 weeks. We had been right to put her interests ahead of my own desire to have a certain kind of birth - one I had spent months preparing for. I used to love the phrase, "If you plan too much, God will laugh at you." Good one, God.

That night, I stood in the shower and started to shake. The fear had finally caught up and the moment became huge. Not only was I having major surgery, we were having a baby - tomorrow. There was the tiniest bit of grief in that moment. The adventure was now really over - the adventure of Mike and me and the world. From the next day forward there would be a new adventure, one we wanted and were excited for, but one that would be different, bigger, scarier - Mike and me and Ava.

On June 18th, I woke up happy. I was ready. I was in the airport in Belgium... waiting. I was in the hospital with a hair net and an IV. I was holding Mike's hands when he whispered "I fucking love you" and then my doctor's hands as she told me to "Breathe" and I leaned over for the epidural. I was on my back, hands out and tied, open to the world and to a room full of doctors and nurses and then those words...

"Well, hello baby girl! Welcome to the world! Happy birthday!"

...And then a squawk that pierced through the haze of the drugs and the bright lights and the monitors and the voices as I felt my breath taken away and I realized that she was here. It was the single most sobering moment of my life to hear my daughter's voice cry out to the world that she had arrived. They held her up so I could see her and I was struck by how beautiful she was, even covered in the mess of it all. They took her to check her vitals and clean her up and I could see Mike holding her as my doula, the one who had coached me through countless squats and push ups and meditative intentions, held my hand. They untied my right hand and Mike brought her to me so I could hold her on my chest. We wiggled around each other's faces, trying to get a better look at each other and there she was, eyes open, the whole world in this moment in time.
Mike becomes a dad

Today, eight weeks later, Mike and I, together with Ava, walked through a memorial service for a friend's mother - a mother who truly lived each day as if it was her last - a mother who knew her greatest role in this world was being just that. They read a tiny note that she kept in her wallet:

"A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child."  (by Forest E. Witcraft)

We still don't know how we are going to afford a new baby. And although we are no longer living with my Dad, we still don't know where we are going to live once this baby can no longer sleep in a crib next to our bed. There is still the juggling of jobs for me. Their is still the worry that my dreams will stay just that. But the world is different, bigger, scarier and more hopeful, beautiful, and inspired than I could have ever imagined. My life is important. My experiences, less. My love, the single greatest gift I can give to the world.  My daughter, my everything.


Tuesday, July 28, 2015

And then there were three...

...or four really, counting Maple. This Thursday it will be six weeks - six weeks since our lives completely turned inside out, six weeks of messy, raw, the good, the bad, and the ugly, six weeks of a joy that has pierced us both to our souls, six weeks of so many sleepless nights! But, yes, six weeks, since Ava Kathleen arrived and made Mike and I parents.   I have been absent on this blog for quite some time. Pregnancy made me feel more exposed than I ever wanted to be and now that I have become a mother, I am quickly learning that the exposure I felt with all the raw emotions and hormones and physicality of a huge belly ain't got nothing on motherhood. I am learning that to be a mother is to feel vulnerable all the time. There is a joy and a worry so powerful and so all-consuming, that in any given moment I'm not entirely sure which one I am experiencing. But I know that I love it - motherhood. For all the feelings and vulnerability that comes with it, also comes a fierce courage and sharpening of the instincts. Despite the fog of sleeplessness and exhaustion, there is a clarity that has also been born. Priorities align very quickly and time becomes more present than ever. When I hold that little being of light and she wraps her tiny fingers around my thumb, everything becomes very clear - this is everything I have ever wanted and everything I have ever wanted to give someone else. 

This doesn't mean I will give up on my other dreams or goals. They still are important to me and for as fulfilled as I am right now, I know that I would do my daughter a disservice to lose myself into becoming her mother only and forgetting the woman I had to become to bring me to this point. But, right now, when I hold her against my chest, our breaths in sync, her fingers around one of mine, her eyes trying to see who this woman singing to her is, everything else falls away. The restlessness stills. Becoming a mother has not been pain-free and not without sorrow carried over from the past. But, the love is so all-consuming, it really does push everything else out, at least for right now. These past six weeks have been demanding, painful, and tough AND they have been the absolute best six weeks of my life. 

More to write later, perhaps her birth story which taught me some of the greatest lessons in letting go. But for now, lullabies and nose kisses await...

Friday, March 27, 2015

The Art of Exposure

I don't remember the date off the top of my head. I know it was in October and that an iPhoto search could give me the exact date. But the date is not what I remember. It was the gasping "Oh my God!" leaping from my mouth followed by me covering my mouth, afraid of what would come out next, followed by sobs. I write this with caution, as I realize now that everything I have written on the internet and will write from here on out could potentially have a special reader one of these days. But if there is anything I want my kid to know about me, it's that I really try to tell the truth as much as I can and that I loved them before this moment.

I have always wanted to be a mother. I have always loved kids and if I could list my strengths as a human being, connecting with young people would be one of them. I just never wanted to be pregnant. I have feared it from as far back as I can remember. I have never been one to fantasize about that big belly and the pregnancy glow. Instead I feared that complete surrendering of my body to another being. I feared the discomfort of growing something from inside, the stretching and expanding, the slowing down, the confinement and the promise of labor from what I've heard my whole life is "the worst pain you will ever experience!"  But when Mike and I got together, I knew this day would come, because I really wanted a child with him.

4 weeks
It wasn't all fear and tears that day. There was joy and laughter and me wanting to take a belly shot at what I think was only 4 weeks. There was me thinking how I totally was not going to do those belly progression shots and I haven't really. But on occasion I have snapped one here and there, more for myself than anyone. In fact, this is the first time I am really showing anyone, including my husband, some of these photographs.

The first trimester was rough - nausea most of the day into the night, fatigue like I have never known, and emotions that came in like gale winds. I was scared and as of yesterday, realized, I am still really fucking scared.

At 11 weeks I signed up for a prenatal yoga class which was the best decision I made this pregnancy and not because it gave me a place to meditate and exercise. But, it gave me community. It gave me a place to take all those fears and emotions that appear as truths and talk about them. It gave me the kindness of strangers, strangers like me. It gave me a marker by which to look for upcoming symptoms and a teacher who could answer all those questions that I felt like I should know the answer to, even though no one else there knew the answer either. I felt very alone the first part of my pregnancy. I was keeping it very secret, also still wrestling with my own acceptance, and wondering if "it" was going to stick. I frantically tried to figure out my life, my job, our living situation. I tried to outrun what I felt was certified chaos coming our way, when all I really needed to do was sink into the beautiful chaos it already was. Life wasn't going to change in nine months, it already had. The date is not what I will remember from that day when the first pregnancy test I ever took read "Pregnant." It is the shift in
11 weeks
consciousness that I will remember. It is the feelings of awe and fear and wonderment and joy and paralyzation and panic.

I remember when I started telling friends, I felt guarded. I was afraid I couldn't match their excitement. I kept telling myself and my friends that I didn't feel connected to the pregnancy. And yet, it was always on my mind. I think now that it wasn't so much a disconnection, but perhaps a resentment. I often have this illusion that I am in control of all of the outcomes in my life. When actually very little has been in my control. Don't get me wrong, I do the footwork for things that I want. But in the end, life happens on life's terms.

We found out the sex of our baby at 20 weeks. I knew from the beginning what it was, but it was still a sweet surprise. We decided we would do a fun reveal at our co-ed baby shower. Two weeks later, my grandmother suffered a mini stroke which gave her temporary numbness and weakness on her left side. She would have a "TIA" followed by five minutes of symptoms but then it would go away. My family all rallied around her in the hospital and we laughed and told stories and laughed some more. Despite being in a hospital room waiting to hear from a surgeon, they were a great three days with her.

The surgeon said she needed surgery to clear out her carotid artery, but that it was a 35 minute procedure. Never once did we feel it was a dangerous surgery or one she would not wake up from. And in fact, she did wake up from it. And later that night, in ICU, she developed a hematoma and the details on what actually happened are still unclear. But, after walking my grandmother's gurney to the elevator  (along with family) where they would take her to the surgery wing, after waving goodbye to her as she waved two hands at us, that was the last time I saw her.
20 weeks - the day we found out the sex

She never asked me what I was having. But a few weeks before this, she had given my Aunt Gail a baby outfit she had saved from one the eight kids she gave birth to, and told her she wanted me to have this. Something tells me she knew what I was having.

I should not be surprised that yesterday, everything I have been trying to keep together with the pregnancy, with my recent move, with a recent new job, and this devastating loss, caught up with me on the floor of my very disorganized new bedroom. As I sat between a crib that for now is used as a place for me to hang my clothes over, my 8 month old dog's bed, a used baby dresser,  and a suitcase I have still not unpacked, the unmanageability of it all came crashing down. I am thrilled to become a mother. I am grateful to have a healthy pregnancy and an amazing partner. AND I am still scared to death of labor. I am grieving the unexpected loss of my grandmother. I am filled with joy and completely heartbroken. I am in awe and humility of the unknown ahead.

Several months back, in yoga class, my teacher had said to me that pregnancy makes us feel exposed. When she said that to me, I felt a huge amount of relief and forgiveness for what I was ultimately trying to cover up. ( I didn't tell family until 14 weeks, some even later). Pregnancy has made me feel exposed and vulnerable in the most unbridled fashion. While the internet has helped me to hone a certain art of exposure through blogging and social media, being pregnant was the real mother fuckin' deal, which may be why I deserted my blog and Facebook for months and months. In fact, this is my first real public announcement - I'm pregnant, friends, and the clock is ticking...

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

The Gift of the Present Moment

Tonight, I came home, tired and grappling with a resentment...and there she was. Happy to see me, tail wagging so hard it banged against the wall. I took her outside to relieve herself and found that she actually took me on a walk, perhaps to relieve myself. She walked me down the block further and further away from the apartment. I kept looking back, anxious I had not locked the door. But something about her confidence in leading me down this street seemed to say I was in good hands. I am safe.

After we were far enough a way she buried her nose in the fresh early spring grass, and I looked up and noticed a couple constellations I otherwise would not have. I felt breath coming in and tension leaving me. Perhaps I am reading too much into what was most certainly just a quick dog walk. Or perhaps for a moment I really let go and this little being knew exactly what I needed. Perhaps the universe and my dog conspired to show me that if I let go a little, even for just a walk down the street, the world will promise fresh new ground and a sky full of stars.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Well, well, little blog...we meet again

So, I don't know what to say for myself other than I have had a total swing of the pendulum as of late and have retreated from the tentacles of online life, desperately trying to free myself back into my small corner of privacy in the world. Let's just say, I hit a point, both physically and emotionally where I felt exposed in a way that did not feel good. And I say free myself back into privacy because that is exactly what it has felt like. I deactivated my Facebook account just after Thanksgiving and to be honest, I have not missed it one minute. Sure, I have missed staying in touch with my friends in New Zealand and Myanmar and all my girls back East. But, I also know that these friendships can stand the test of time without social media. For most of them, we became friends before there was a Facebook or a Twitter. And I have found that Instagram has become the best social media platform for those friendships of mine that really thrive on short quips, inside jokes and stories. (Yes, I am still on Instagram @rewindrevise, and I love it!) I keep Instagram as my one social media tool right now that keeps me in touch enough and removed enough. I am also technically on Twitter but I never really post there (unless it is through Instagram). I have to say I never got into the whole Twitter thing. I think it is great for the really funny and the really sarcastic and the really political, and none of those are my full time thing. But, shifting online life out of focus has allowed me to put into focus my still very disjointed life here in California and I think it has helped. I no longer feel depressed or completely heartbroken over leaving New York. I am actually starting to enjoy this alternative lifestyle out here, even with the unsteadiness of 3 freelance part time jobs. I am somehow piecing something together here that finally feels like it is moving rather than having me push it forward like a rock up a boulder. I also have found some really cool new creative outlets with some of these juggling opportunities, one that has led me to write a couple theatre reviews for  If you are so inclined, you can check out my review of The Whipping Man up today!

Mike and Maple
My life in California is definitely a new chapter for lots of reasons - some big and obvious and some small and feisty, like this little light of mine: Maple. And of course there is Mike, who I have never seen so happy in a job and so comfortable in a climate.

It has been a special time in that we have been living with my father which has been pretty cool and unique. While Mike, Maple, and I are moving into our own place at the end of the month, I will always treasure this time I have had with my father and my husband and my pup as this really special period in my life where I truly got the best of both worlds.

I don't have much else I want to share right now. But I wanted to say hello out there and write some words again and let the big bad internet know, that even though I've been a stranger, I'm still incredibly grateful you exist!