Let's Do This

Posting after an extended break from writing feels a little like sliding back into the kayak after an unfortunate incident. Oh you know you can navigate the waters, you've done it before. But you've spent so much time thinking about it, rehashing, replaying that now there's a hesitation where there wasn't before. A pause when there would have been a Publish.

But dude, you can't stand on the shore forever, right? Right.

Watching Loribeth share lovely glimpses of herself with the 30 Days Meme has been like a friendly prod. Don't you want to write a little today? Doesn't this look like a nice project to work on? Don't you want to do something like this?

And while I was contemplating, Angie came up behind me and shoved me in, clothes and all, when she put this new twist on it. So yeah, I'm in.

And by "in" I mean over the next 30 days, in line with October as Pregnancy Loss and Awareness Month (newsflash: babies die. Boo!) Oh god, that was crass, sorry. Where was I? Yes. Over the next 30 days, I'll give you a little of me, bit by bit, day by day, building from Angie's master list. We'll laugh, we'll cry. We'll wonder how m. still has real life friends that put up with her, particularly considering the amount of shoegazing early 90s music she still listens to.

We won't use the third person again. Sorry about that.

My list starts today and will spill into November, and might even be interrupted here and there with non-meme posts and updates. Because once I get my feet wet again, look out.

In Praise of Perfect Moments

Here's the thing: most Sunday nights and Monday mornings find me scrambling. Feeling semi-guilty for neglecting work I brought home over the weekend and didn't do...pep talking myself to death about how THIS week is going to be THE week I run or exercise every. single. morning...the week I get my shit together, the week I study for the CAE exam with focus and determination for a minimum of 7 hours....

Sunday night/Monday morning begins my weekly cycle of resolutions and to dos - some of which get done and some, alas, get rehashed the following week. One of the things that many times doesn't make it to the top of the list is writing my Perfect Moment.

I can't remember when Lori started Perfect Moment Monday. I just know the practice of paying attention and documenting one lovely thing that occurred during the week came at a good time for me. And it is something, unlike meditation, that comes fairly easily to me. Its a little dose of mindfulness that can pull me out of (and spare you from) the woooeeee is meeeeee-ness that can manifest itself here in a blog about infertility and loss.

I am not one that believes in everything happening for a Reason. I do not believe in a Divine Plan. Our world is one ruled (for lack of a better word) by Randomness. But Perfect Moments help remind me that randomness is not always bad.

So I find myself throughout the week thinking, "Oh, that would make a nice perfect moment....." and I make a mental note and sometimes that moment makes it to the screen and sometimes it doesn't. But its the noticing that I think is important. The practice of holding on, for just a minute, to the lovely.

So my Perfect Moment this week is about the recognition of perfect moments.

How meta is that?

**

Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between. Go visit Lori from Weebles Wobblog, founder of Perfect Moment Mondays to read where she and others found their moments this week.

Still Life

I forgot to mention, my word cloud was over at Still Life 365 yesterday. What's that?

still life 365 is a unique art project for, about and by mothers, fathers, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles and friends who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. still life 365 posts a piece of art every day by a poet, artist, photographer, crafter, musician, collagist, paper artist, filmmaker, painter, sculptor, fabric artist and ordinary person exploring grief through creativity. each piece is an expression of grief, survival, sadness, love and hope. still life 365 is intended to be a safe space for creative expression. still life 365 is open to anyone affected by pregnancy loss not simply parents.

While you're there, have a look at the stunning community photo project for today, and if you are someone who is living through infant or pregnancy loss, consider sharing some of your work or participating in a community project in the future. Submission details are here.

September

This air outside. right now. It is gorgeous. Is it blowing for you?

It smells like the end of summer. The beginning of school. The start of the leaves.

It's reminding me of college. Of high school. Of football games and flasks. Of mischief and love. Of long hair and layered clothes.

Fresh notebooks and nice pens. Because expensive pens make everything better. Super fine point please.

How can it be September already?

Why can't it be September forever?

FORM

I came home from dinner at Spa.go (!!!!) last night drunk with happy. Connections were made. Laughter was had. Copious amount of wine was drunk. This morning, the wise words of Stuart Smiley are ringing through my head: I'm good enough. I'm smart enough and gosh darned it, people like me. (even with two dead babies.)

Dammit. Who let that inner voice into the party?

The day started off with a 5K fun run through the streets of L.A. I chose the "fast" group for the fun run thinking, it's a tour right? We'll stop, look at stuff, we'll talk, we'll run again....

Not so. So as the folks in front of me discussed plans for their next marathon, I panted and prayed for a traffic light to give me just a minute to breathe. Luckily, I wasn't the only one. At one point I heard a gasping, "there aren't hills like this in St. Petersburg!" behind me and knew I had a new best friend. So, my Florida friend and I finished the course together not too, too behind the pack and then basked in our accomplishment as the slower groups made their way back minutes after us.

The day kept that pace until I fell into bed late last night.

**

I read something last week that if you are looking to meet people, FORM is always a good way to get the conversation started:

Family
Occupation
Recreation
Me

And while it's a formula that definitely works, and while I always skip to the "O," it means that this question comes up. A LOT:

"So, any kids?"

So, I have gotten very good at saying, without blinking, "Yes. I had two daughters. They were premature. They died." and then wait patiently as someone processes that, searches for an appropriate response and facial gesture and a way to redirect the conversation. I don't apologize. I don't sugar coat. I refuse to say "No. no kids," and let people get wistful about my seemingly carefree unfettered life. It is what it is. And so far, the earth has not opened, the sky has not fallen when I speak the truth. In fact, I have been comforted and pleasantly surprised by some responses. ("Pleasantly" is clearly not the right word here. Maybe its just the shock that occurs when people manage not to say something horrible. But then again, I'm guessing these are folks who have taken numerous courses on Emotional Intelligence. Folks that are used to handling people in their lives as CEOs and upper management. Or maybe they are just good people and I should stop second guessing.)

Perhaps I am being too plain. But then again, perhaps I was too bold last night when I told the head of a particular city's tourist bureau: "I love my job. I love your city more. Here's my card. Help me find a way to be there."

But the sun is still shining. The earth below me still intact. And day #2 of the conference awaits. Let's see what trouble I get into today.

Ridin' Solo

Doods, I am on an adventure!

This post is coming to you from the food court at O'Hare as I ingest the blandest cobb salad I have ever tasted. This airport is all business, hey? God forbid you get comfy.

In a few minutes I'll board a plane to my final destination - a mega-conference in L.A. that I happened to get a scholarship for (!) A scholarship that seems to include all kinds of bells and whistles, like discounted hotel rooms and invites to swanky post conference parties and soirees. I am beyond excited. And I'm all by myself. And a couple of things are striking me:

1. This concept that sometimes when you take a chance and ask for something, you actually get it.

2. That it has been a very long time since I've traveled solo. Day trips or weekends in DC don't count. I'm talking, covered significant geographical space without M., my fellow traveler, my partner in crime, recipient and exchanger of all snarky sidebar comments.

It feels a little wierd.

But good. I did extend and invite, but I've got a lot of work to do while I'm here and I think he knew I could do that best alone, unworried about how a companion could entertain himself. So he declined.

And usually leaving M. makes me nervous. Just because there is no one to hold the melancholy at bay should it decide to show up. But not this time. We put some things in motion before I left. Things that feel like motion, that feel like movement in positive directions.

Because sometimes if you take a risk and ask for something, you just might get it.

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With all due respect

Ok, Tuesday's post. It's gone. I deleted it. Because it didn't feel good keeping it up. Here's the long and the short of it:

My parents don't like each other and they haven't for a long time and that makes me really sad. It's also no fun to be around.

It upsets me when people have a need to explain other people's motivations as a way to justify something that's been said/done. Telling me someone was "terrified" to tell me something does not make that something sting any less. It doesn't negate my reaction. It is what it is. It's kinda like this:



So, while I sit here and try to process and try to clear some of the judgmental and mean thoughts from my head, let's focus on some better things:

We saw one of my favorite bands last night. And yes, it was disappointing that they didn't play songs from the album that M and I love, but they were here. And we were there. And it was a pretty awesome evening.

One of our best friends turns 40 today. And damn, she looks good.

My birth brother (half brother? is that how that works?) took first place in a 10 mile race last week with a time 2 minutes faster than the next guy. 14 minutes out ahead of the next guy in line. Holy crap. He's fast. I know this because the results were in the sweetest letter from my birth dad. One that puts us, after some shaky starts and some restarts, where I think I'd like to be. Where I hope he's ok with being.

And looking at my brother's 1:16:58 time makes me wonder if this running thing really isn't a fluke. Maybe after 3 decades of being labeled as not even remotely athletic, I really have found the thing that my body wants to do. That it was made to do.

Of course that's all a little dramatic, but that realization last night did feel like a "bum bah bum" kind of moment. Lights dim. Spotlight on. Zoom to close up and an expression of realization. Now I just need to get a little faster. Go a little longer. Ten miles is just around the corner, right?