The past couple of days I have started to feel numb. My feelings seem trapped within a place deep within that I just can't reach. Mom's cancer has started proliferating now after 11 years. I got on antidepressant medication, Lexapro, about two weeks ago and maybe the medication doesn't let me feel the full effect of the anger and sadness I feel. But I'm still trying to reach those deep emotions I know I'd be feeling if not for my "happy pills." I have been reading a lot of Buddhist literature, Thich Nhat Hanh and such and while I wish for long term growth in this path right now I want to be angry. I want to tap into the primal, animalistic anger. I want to scream, cry, and experience those emotions that have in the past led me to some sort of release at the end. Except that I can't get there. Something is blocking like a windo I can't open. I can see through the other side but I just can't feel them.
Thich Nhat Hanh says to go and sit with that anger, that sadness, recognize it, meditate on it. The point of life is to simply be happy. But I don't want to be that mature, Buddhist now. I want to be my mommy's daughter. The one afraid for her loss and all that signifies in my life. I feel like there is a transition that I must make now and I'm in the in between. I know that hard times are coming, that I will be brought to my knees but I'm not there yet. And that knowing is frightening. I am afraid for her, for dad, for me, for what will be. I could try to enjoy the moments and I mostly do. But I can't look at her without thinking ahead.
So right now, my thoughts pause and I feel like a blank stare. As if I'm just staring into space without direction, literally and figuratively. Before the pills I couldn't get moving. Now I'm constantly moving without being able to stop so that I don't have to think. I am being mindful in sort of a mindless way. I am enjoying my home, the kids for the first time in a long time but now the weight of this is overwhelming. I wish I could just break down and cry and I can't.
I saw dad today and he asks how I am. Fine I say. How are you? Fine he says. There is so much pretext underneath that neither of us is willing to bring to the surface. I'm there for him in that way. Silent. Like we have been for so long. Hoping he doesn't break down. Hoping I don't say the wrong thing or go where he isn't ready to go yet.
Mom is unwilling to admit that a major part of the negativity he is projecting has anything to do with this cancer. With the fear of what's to come. She thinks that it's all Publix and that if he retired he'd be happy. She is afraid to face the truth of his emotions and be responsible for them if even they are not her fault. Once again, can't go there. It can't ever be her fault or her causing. Because then she'd have work to do, work she isn't ready to. And for the first time she is the one that can't be strong for us. We have to be strong for her.
Maria is trying to compartmentalize her role in this. She is unwilling to go there every day. She can't call her every day so that she can stay positive for her job, her kids, all of which is doing so well. So I feel like I have no choice. And even if I did, I still would call her and see her b/c I want to. She's done so much for me. But I feel like it's so selfish. I know it's her right to limit her involvement but I think this is not the time for that. Now is the time to come together. However much is needed for mom. Hard times call for more, not less. We have to go there. Do the work. When we were little mom did the work for us regardless of how tired she was, regardless of any circumstance. She went there. Did the work. And now we as mothers we should know and do the same.
Still numb. Unable to process emotionally. All mental unable to group my mind and heart.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Lucas Crawls
Lucas started really crawling on Liam's Kindergarten group time rug on the Friday before Christmas break after his Christmas party. He was chasing a marker that got away from him and went for it. So cute. Friday, Dec. 16, 2011.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Good Bye, Genevieve
Genevieve:
I sat at your kitchen table and looked outside your window the day of your funeral. Your bird feeders were empty. The birds, rich with song that once graced them and us every morning had taken flight elsewhere. It then occurred to me just how fleeting life is, how it really waits for no one. I wept. I wept for them, I wept for life, I wept for you. How long had it been since you enjoyed feeding them? How long had it been since you sat at that table and truly marveled at their colors, their song? Even the struggle with the squirrels, the chipmunks was now over. You taught me the beauty of bird watching. And nowhere could I do it like when I saw them from your window. The calmness inside the home you created wherever you went was conducive to sit and idly be a keen observer. How many mornings did we just sit and with a cup of coffee in our hands did we chat about nothing in particular and all the things that mattered at the same time. How I miss and will continue to miss that simple practice. Your love through guidance. I still hear your voice, and God do I miss it. It pains me that your last days could not have been sitting on the recliner watching your feathery friends, fly all around you, sing you praise and wrap you with love. Help you take your last flight in comfort and company. Who will feed those birds now? Would they come back even if we did upon a visit? The tiny, fragile hummingbirds, the bright cardinals, the ever constant finches? Or perhaps they have followed your spirit, your soul.
I thank you once again for having bestowed upon my life the greatest gift - the man I married, your son. In him you imparted the importance of observation, pausing life to enjoy nature's beauty in a flower, a scent, the song of a bird. It never occurred to me until your passing that all these years he's shared beautiful moments like the budding of a rose, a bird on our rooftop, the scent of our Jasmine, it was a lesson or something intrinsic he learned from you. Every time I come upon one of these little miracles I vow to think of you, speak your name under my breath and hold your presence in my heart. The heart that misses you but never forgets.
While the memory of you rises in me many times throughout the day, it is at night that I reserve a special time to miss you, speak to you, remember you with intention. I have included you in my routine of putting Lucas down for sleep every night. I wish and would like to believe that you are there, in his room with us, watching us and watching over him. One night I swear you were there. I dim the lights, I nurse him and sing him songs and talk to you and him about you. While he will have been too young to remember, I will impart him with my memories of you. I ask you every night to watch over him. The week after we came home from your funeral he cried himself to sleep several nights in a row for a long time. Then I saw him smile in the opposite direction and reach with his tiny hand and bat it at the air in front of him several times. He cooed in a way he had never done and kept smiling. I swore you were there and felt deep love. I asked you to sing him to sleep, to visit him and bring him love and peace from wherever you may be. That night he settled right down before I left his room. I walked out, closed the door, and he slept all night. I'd like to believe you were there that night with us. Perhaps looking at us and me not being able to see you. Every night I hear the crib's mattress creek when I'm nursing Lucas and say hello. Maybe you are there. Your leaving has left such sorrow in my heart that I will believe you are there, watching from wherever you may be taking your much deserved rest, still loving us.
I sat at your kitchen table and looked outside your window the day of your funeral. Your bird feeders were empty. The birds, rich with song that once graced them and us every morning had taken flight elsewhere. It then occurred to me just how fleeting life is, how it really waits for no one. I wept. I wept for them, I wept for life, I wept for you. How long had it been since you enjoyed feeding them? How long had it been since you sat at that table and truly marveled at their colors, their song? Even the struggle with the squirrels, the chipmunks was now over. You taught me the beauty of bird watching. And nowhere could I do it like when I saw them from your window. The calmness inside the home you created wherever you went was conducive to sit and idly be a keen observer. How many mornings did we just sit and with a cup of coffee in our hands did we chat about nothing in particular and all the things that mattered at the same time. How I miss and will continue to miss that simple practice. Your love through guidance. I still hear your voice, and God do I miss it. It pains me that your last days could not have been sitting on the recliner watching your feathery friends, fly all around you, sing you praise and wrap you with love. Help you take your last flight in comfort and company. Who will feed those birds now? Would they come back even if we did upon a visit? The tiny, fragile hummingbirds, the bright cardinals, the ever constant finches? Or perhaps they have followed your spirit, your soul.
I thank you once again for having bestowed upon my life the greatest gift - the man I married, your son. In him you imparted the importance of observation, pausing life to enjoy nature's beauty in a flower, a scent, the song of a bird. It never occurred to me until your passing that all these years he's shared beautiful moments like the budding of a rose, a bird on our rooftop, the scent of our Jasmine, it was a lesson or something intrinsic he learned from you. Every time I come upon one of these little miracles I vow to think of you, speak your name under my breath and hold your presence in my heart. The heart that misses you but never forgets.
While the memory of you rises in me many times throughout the day, it is at night that I reserve a special time to miss you, speak to you, remember you with intention. I have included you in my routine of putting Lucas down for sleep every night. I wish and would like to believe that you are there, in his room with us, watching us and watching over him. One night I swear you were there. I dim the lights, I nurse him and sing him songs and talk to you and him about you. While he will have been too young to remember, I will impart him with my memories of you. I ask you every night to watch over him. The week after we came home from your funeral he cried himself to sleep several nights in a row for a long time. Then I saw him smile in the opposite direction and reach with his tiny hand and bat it at the air in front of him several times. He cooed in a way he had never done and kept smiling. I swore you were there and felt deep love. I asked you to sing him to sleep, to visit him and bring him love and peace from wherever you may be. That night he settled right down before I left his room. I walked out, closed the door, and he slept all night. I'd like to believe you were there that night with us. Perhaps looking at us and me not being able to see you. Every night I hear the crib's mattress creek when I'm nursing Lucas and say hello. Maybe you are there. Your leaving has left such sorrow in my heart that I will believe you are there, watching from wherever you may be taking your much deserved rest, still loving us.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Lucas's First Teeth
Lucas got his first tooth on Friday, Oct. 14th in the evening right after a very crabby nap. Then the other tooth next to it (both on bottom center), started to show two days later. I love it, except that before while we'd put our fingers in his mouth and the gummies were cute, now they hurt....a lot! Very sharp little bumps!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
36.5 Weeks and About to Pop
I just looked at the calendar, where every week is marked as another week together. And although I had tried not to mark too many in the future in fear of not making it that far, I have marked up through 37 weeks. I can't believe we're at 36.5 weeks. The last few days have been really rough for us. I keep trying to remind myself at every uncomfortable rising in my body that you must also be feeling cramped in that small space that my body affords you. While my belly feels every tight pulling apart, your body must feel constrained in each of your movements as well. This give and take, tug and pull is amazing if you stop to really think about it. Life is just that way.
While I am ready to meet you and pull you onto my chest and stare at the newness of you I know that we need to hold on for a few more days. Today is a Saturday and our doctor is away until Monday. So we have to play it safe for a little while longer. I have the hospital bag packed, including yours with your little tiny clothes.
I still can't believe that we don't know whether you are a boy or a girl and more so, that we are not crazy to find that out more than whether you will be fair skinned like daddy's family and Liam or more olive complected like my family. Whether you will have dark or light hair, dark or light eyes...and goodness, how big you will be. I know you are already bigger than your brother Liam was at birth, which is wonderful and scary for me during your delivery. I am so excited! I will try to bring up this excitement at every discomfort my body feels.
While I am ready to meet you and pull you onto my chest and stare at the newness of you I know that we need to hold on for a few more days. Today is a Saturday and our doctor is away until Monday. So we have to play it safe for a little while longer. I have the hospital bag packed, including yours with your little tiny clothes.
I still can't believe that we don't know whether you are a boy or a girl and more so, that we are not crazy to find that out more than whether you will be fair skinned like daddy's family and Liam or more olive complected like my family. Whether you will have dark or light hair, dark or light eyes...and goodness, how big you will be. I know you are already bigger than your brother Liam was at birth, which is wonderful and scary for me during your delivery. I am so excited! I will try to bring up this excitement at every discomfort my body feels.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Photso
In preparing myself for a year long project of mindfulness practice in calculated ways, I've been reading the magazine my sister bought me a subscription to, "Shambhala Sun." In an article titled, "Just Leap!," I read the following passage.
"Our outrageousness in leaping does not come from insecurity, wildness, or insanity. This kind of leap is a form of confidence, a confluence of wisdom mixed with bravery. It has a quality of enlightened calculation and chutzpa, awakened audacity. The Tibetan word is photso, 'accurate assessment." We have, through enlightened assessment, calculated how to go beyond the magnetic pull of the setting sun. We know deep inside that we can do it-and that we must do it."
This passage really describes the leaping I did into this pregnancy. The article discusses that we must take leaps and the concept of abruptness to awaken the mind. I can best be summed up by "A key element of braery, says Sakyong Mipham, is abruptness- the ability to break free from hesitation and suddenly leap from our habitual patterns to the awake mind."
"Our outrageousness in leaping does not come from insecurity, wildness, or insanity. This kind of leap is a form of confidence, a confluence of wisdom mixed with bravery. It has a quality of enlightened calculation and chutzpa, awakened audacity. The Tibetan word is photso, 'accurate assessment." We have, through enlightened assessment, calculated how to go beyond the magnetic pull of the setting sun. We know deep inside that we can do it-and that we must do it."
This passage really describes the leaping I did into this pregnancy. The article discusses that we must take leaps and the concept of abruptness to awaken the mind. I can best be summed up by "A key element of braery, says Sakyong Mipham, is abruptness- the ability to break free from hesitation and suddenly leap from our habitual patterns to the awake mind."
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
35 Weeks Together
We have made it so far, baby. I am so grateful at the divinity in the world manifesting a little bit of itself into the divinity within me. Namaste. For I listened to it, trusted the voice I heard, and allowed myself to surrender to it completely, feeling no fear or negativity. Only hope and light guided my way once I made the decision to have you. Knowing all of the challenges that I would - and which I have faced in this pregnancy, like with Liam's, never deterred me or made me look back. And I have to say that I am proud that at the strength that lies within me that allowed me to follow through. It took four and a half years, but I did it.
I cannot wait to meet you, hold your little body naked and warm it with mine. Cacoon you within my chest and arms. Kiss the top of you head endlessly. Look at the uniqueness and beauty that already is you. Feel a tiny squeeze from your little hand wrap my finger and just get to know you, day by day.
I am so excited to bring you home to the wonderful family Jay and I have created and the extended family we are so blessed to have, who will adore you. I can't wait to watch your daddy fall in love with you like he did with Liam and be so good at taking care of you; your brother hug you and give you kisses, wanting to hold you and watch every poopy diaper change. Even if at first I just want to keep you all to myself I will do my best to share you with other loving hands.
I cannot wait to meet you, hold your little body naked and warm it with mine. Cacoon you within my chest and arms. Kiss the top of you head endlessly. Look at the uniqueness and beauty that already is you. Feel a tiny squeeze from your little hand wrap my finger and just get to know you, day by day.
I am so excited to bring you home to the wonderful family Jay and I have created and the extended family we are so blessed to have, who will adore you. I can't wait to watch your daddy fall in love with you like he did with Liam and be so good at taking care of you; your brother hug you and give you kisses, wanting to hold you and watch every poopy diaper change. Even if at first I just want to keep you all to myself I will do my best to share you with other loving hands.
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