Sunday, May 13, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Why is the grass always in need of cutting?
The week has been all lawn mowing and work so far. Not so much fun... tomorrow I go back to yoga. Yeah!
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Cocooning in Springtime
So March was a whirlwind, and April seems to be following suit. But it's better than it has been....
Grief counseling has been good... we are just one of many couples with no answers and very deep wounds. Everyone's stories are so hard; we are one of three couples furthest from their loss... for many it was more recent. I have been struck by the shear numbers... 16 couples in this group, just one in the area. It doesn't make it easier, but it does make me realize how more common this unspoken and unexpected tragedy is, despite modern medicine. There are people in group so seemingly worse off than us emotionally... they have such difficulty connecting as a couple- marriages on the brink of ending in this group, and that is so shocking to me. I cannot imagine being there. I understand how people can get there of course, but being so cruel to one another at the time when you most need each other is something I am fortunate to say has mostly missed us. In general, I feel like despite the entire experience, we have been blessed with a grace that has moved us forward through our darkest days with exceptional strength.
Easter weekend was very beautiful and quite meaningful. We went to the Good Friday Lovefeast, at which point I ended Lent and had coffee. While this is entirely appropriate in some circles, others think Lent doesn't end until Easter Sunday. I was down with calling it done at the Good Friday Lovefeast, although I have to say since, that I don't miss coffee as much as I thought I did. One week of drinking it again and I feel like crap & I swear to God I gained 5 more pounds. So I'm over it... back to Roobios and Scottish Breakfast tea. Ah, and this week, back to yoga after babying the microtear for a month. (Time just escaped me really).
Easter Saturday we spent the morning cleaning and decorating the headstones in God's Acre, 'randomly assigned' to exactly where we needed to be, to exactly where I found myself months earlier in reflection. We met wonderful people that morning, and Saturday evening we had dinner with our good friends, the self-described Half Catholics. That night we all went to the Great Sabbath service,which was musically quite amazing. Sunday morning we did Sunrise service as well as regular morning services. While I haven't spent that much time at church since I was a young practicing Catholic, and I definitely hit my maximum for the weekend, it was really great. This past weekend we had to go up to a winery in Rockingham County... I was only the page turner for my wife, but was glad she didn't have to do that drive alone, especially on the way back that night. I have to say, the wine sucked. But it was for a fundraiser performance with the Half Catholics... and so we went. Today after church we went to Hanging Rock with Mr.Gusford...
and tonight, to see Titanic again, on the Anniversary of its sinking.
Grief counseling has been good... we are just one of many couples with no answers and very deep wounds. Everyone's stories are so hard; we are one of three couples furthest from their loss... for many it was more recent. I have been struck by the shear numbers... 16 couples in this group, just one in the area. It doesn't make it easier, but it does make me realize how more common this unspoken and unexpected tragedy is, despite modern medicine. There are people in group so seemingly worse off than us emotionally... they have such difficulty connecting as a couple- marriages on the brink of ending in this group, and that is so shocking to me. I cannot imagine being there. I understand how people can get there of course, but being so cruel to one another at the time when you most need each other is something I am fortunate to say has mostly missed us. In general, I feel like despite the entire experience, we have been blessed with a grace that has moved us forward through our darkest days with exceptional strength.
Easter weekend was very beautiful and quite meaningful. We went to the Good Friday Lovefeast, at which point I ended Lent and had coffee. While this is entirely appropriate in some circles, others think Lent doesn't end until Easter Sunday. I was down with calling it done at the Good Friday Lovefeast, although I have to say since, that I don't miss coffee as much as I thought I did. One week of drinking it again and I feel like crap & I swear to God I gained 5 more pounds. So I'm over it... back to Roobios and Scottish Breakfast tea. Ah, and this week, back to yoga after babying the microtear for a month. (Time just escaped me really).
Easter Saturday we spent the morning cleaning and decorating the headstones in God's Acre, 'randomly assigned' to exactly where we needed to be, to exactly where I found myself months earlier in reflection. We met wonderful people that morning, and Saturday evening we had dinner with our good friends, the self-described Half Catholics. That night we all went to the Great Sabbath service,which was musically quite amazing. Sunday morning we did Sunrise service as well as regular morning services. While I haven't spent that much time at church since I was a young practicing Catholic, and I definitely hit my maximum for the weekend, it was really great. This past weekend we had to go up to a winery in Rockingham County... I was only the page turner for my wife, but was glad she didn't have to do that drive alone, especially on the way back that night. I have to say, the wine sucked. But it was for a fundraiser performance with the Half Catholics... and so we went. Today after church we went to Hanging Rock with Mr.Gusford...
Sunday, March 18, 2012
I forgot to mention
I think I accomplished yet another micro-tear of my previously injured hamstring last week. Perhaps I should have had the surgery.
I've lost my mind
It took me weeks to figure out how to reset this account and be able to sign in again. I think I am just not cut out for this digital age, where everything is online and everything is password protected, and nothing is supposed to match less you leave yourself open to identity theft.
Today is a shitty day. I've tried to stay in a place of faith, in a place of hope, but today is just not working. Angelica would have been 7 months old this past week. Seven months... starting finger foods, navigating a sippy cup, playing hide and seek with her toys, knowing that the jack in the box will pop up a the end of the song, but still finding it hilariously funny every time.
The past month has been a shitty month. I have been absolutely crushed at work with responsibility, not the least of which is managing two new reports- one that needs no managing at all, and one that is challenging to say the least. My team's dynamic is changing, and I'm trying to stay in a place of calm, but the entire apple cart is sort of hobbling along bringing the challenging one up to speed, which seems to be a task I am just not cut out for... I haven't the patience or the interest in managing someone older than me, someone with theoretically more experience... from my perspective they should get it already. I am resentful at my boss for pushing this hire while I was out on leave. It should have been my decision on who and when someone else was brought on to my team. The only human being I wanted to be responsible for now was my daughter, and I didn't even get the chance. There are days I simply want to walk away and never go back to work... but I need this job, we need this job. For the money, the insurance, etc., etc. etc...
Yesterday I took my niece to her voice recital. It was sweet,and she was lovely. But there are only so many hours I can stand right now of watching other people's adorable children. I don't spite them, and I am not bitter with them for having their kids, I just can't take it sometimes. Today in church I just sat there and cried. Through the whole entire service.
I never expected to be here like this. My life feels like a treadmill. I am exhausted, but nothing ever changes. And it all still feels like a nightmare I just keep having over and over. We start group therapy with other parents of stillbirths or infant loss later this week. I'm not sure it will help, but at least we won't feel so completely alone.
Today is a shitty day. I've tried to stay in a place of faith, in a place of hope, but today is just not working. Angelica would have been 7 months old this past week. Seven months... starting finger foods, navigating a sippy cup, playing hide and seek with her toys, knowing that the jack in the box will pop up a the end of the song, but still finding it hilariously funny every time.
The past month has been a shitty month. I have been absolutely crushed at work with responsibility, not the least of which is managing two new reports- one that needs no managing at all, and one that is challenging to say the least. My team's dynamic is changing, and I'm trying to stay in a place of calm, but the entire apple cart is sort of hobbling along bringing the challenging one up to speed, which seems to be a task I am just not cut out for... I haven't the patience or the interest in managing someone older than me, someone with theoretically more experience... from my perspective they should get it already. I am resentful at my boss for pushing this hire while I was out on leave. It should have been my decision on who and when someone else was brought on to my team. The only human being I wanted to be responsible for now was my daughter, and I didn't even get the chance. There are days I simply want to walk away and never go back to work... but I need this job, we need this job. For the money, the insurance, etc., etc. etc...
Yesterday I took my niece to her voice recital. It was sweet,and she was lovely. But there are only so many hours I can stand right now of watching other people's adorable children. I don't spite them, and I am not bitter with them for having their kids, I just can't take it sometimes. Today in church I just sat there and cried. Through the whole entire service.
I never expected to be here like this. My life feels like a treadmill. I am exhausted, but nothing ever changes. And it all still feels like a nightmare I just keep having over and over. We start group therapy with other parents of stillbirths or infant loss later this week. I'm not sure it will help, but at least we won't feel so completely alone.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Pieces of A House
It is falling apart piece by piece
Window glass comes undone
and shatters to the ground
to startle a goose into
the pond. I hold my breath.
Shutters hold on crookedly
before finally giving way
to a strong breeze or perhaps
many fell to that once in a century
Appalachian earthquake
Paint peels,slate shingle fall
but she is no worse
for this weathered wear
A mysterious air
Still surrounded her.
Yet the aggressive protection
was all but gone
replaced by a broken
resignation
of defeat
that echoed an almost
audible lament
Without fear, I remove 12 screws
Hinges, and a panel serving as a door
And crawled into the belly of the beast
that has haunted me for all these years
The inside shocked and cries
its own broken heart story
Panel by panel, removed from the pilings
Broken ornaments crushed underfoot
Remnants of 1960's tree stylings
Copper removed by plan or by plunder?
Why all this effort, for these pieces I wonder?
Over a decade of slow decay
And bit by bit removals
A house slowly being buried
By a million little funerals
Window glass comes undone
and shatters to the ground
to startle a goose into
the pond. I hold my breath.
Shutters hold on crookedly
before finally giving way
to a strong breeze or perhaps
many fell to that once in a century
Appalachian earthquake
Paint peels,slate shingle fall
but she is no worse
for this weathered wear
A mysterious air
Still surrounded her.
Yet the aggressive protection
was all but gone
replaced by a broken
resignation
of defeat
that echoed an almost
audible lament
Without fear, I remove 12 screws
Hinges, and a panel serving as a door
And crawled into the belly of the beast
that has haunted me for all these years
The inside shocked and cries
its own broken heart story
Panel by panel, removed from the pilings
Broken ornaments crushed underfoot
Remnants of 1960's tree stylings
Copper removed by plan or by plunder?
Why all this effort, for these pieces I wonder?
Over a decade of slow decay
And bit by bit removals
A house slowly being buried
By a million little funerals
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Time Passing and the Voice of God
It dawned on me the other day while talking to a friend that I rarely post on this here blog anymore. Perhaps that had been a sign of contentment...since most of my previous posts were full of angst. I went through many months of more than contentment, more like total bliss.
But my recent human condition has been one of such real trauma and sadness that I am unable to complain about it. I guess it is the reality of true loss that silences the angst of less scaring issues.
The bluebirds of Thanksgiving in 2010 were posted to mark my partners pregnancy. In August we lost our baby to the unknown devastation of a full-term stillbirth. I lost my Mother, my Father, and now my first born daughter. What more does the Universe want from me?
When I was handed our daughter by the nurse, everything faded away, all light, all sound, all physical space. I was standing there in the dark holding her and was told "This is Angelica" by a voice older than the Earth itself, more calming than I would have ever expected, and oddly more comforting in that moment that I sometimes care to admit to. It is easier to be angry and angst-ridden sometimes.
Perhaps what the Universe wants from me is to stay in that place of faith.
But my recent human condition has been one of such real trauma and sadness that I am unable to complain about it. I guess it is the reality of true loss that silences the angst of less scaring issues.
The bluebirds of Thanksgiving in 2010 were posted to mark my partners pregnancy. In August we lost our baby to the unknown devastation of a full-term stillbirth. I lost my Mother, my Father, and now my first born daughter. What more does the Universe want from me?
When I was handed our daughter by the nurse, everything faded away, all light, all sound, all physical space. I was standing there in the dark holding her and was told "This is Angelica" by a voice older than the Earth itself, more calming than I would have ever expected, and oddly more comforting in that moment that I sometimes care to admit to. It is easier to be angry and angst-ridden sometimes.
Perhaps what the Universe wants from me is to stay in that place of faith.
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