clearframe

start where you are.

For months, I've been waiting for the start of the autumn session of Susannah Conway's Unravelling: Ways of Seeing Myself e-course. 

Today, my journey begins.

What is inspiring you today?

lessons.

clouds above the treetops

This morning, I had a moment (or ten) when I was overcome with impatience.  Shortly thereafter, I started being quite unkind to myself for feeling this way.

And then I remembered that every moment is an opportunity to start anew. I remembered that I am not defined by my emotions. I remembered that how I felt five minutes ago is not how I have to feel right now.

What lessons are offering themselves to you today?

habits + change

 

clothespins hanging on the line

Since deciding to approach this new year with intention, I've been trying to pay attention to how my daily living contributes to this sense of waiting I've experienced nearly my entire life. I've been waiting for another time, for different circumstances, to find myself someplace other than where I am at this very moment. It occurred to me that I must be doing something in my day to day living to perpetuate this mindset. I just didn't know what it was.

So, I started paying attention.

And sure enough, through practicing mindfulness, I've become aware that I spend a good part of my time putting off what that my soul most needs, instead allowing my time and energy to be consumed with distractions.

This first became apparent to me when I started feeling frustrated that I couldn't keep up with all of the blogs that I want to read. I noticed that I would first go to the sites that I could easily scan through - or the ones I didn't have to think about too much when reading. And sometimes, that's okay. Sometimes, I just need to look at pretty pictures or to laugh a little. So, I'd put off reading the sites that really matter to me, telling myself that I would come back to them when I had a little more time, when I could really stop and soak up what they were offering, or when I could take the time or have my hands free to comment.

And then, I noticed that this was happening every single day. I noticed hat my RSS feed was sometimes showing dozens of unread posts on these sites that I love so much. And then I noticed that I never seemed to have the time that I was hoping to have - to really stop and read, to truly think and reflect, or to type out a few words in a comment. So, I would then either just skim through the posts, not really giving them the attention I had hoped to. Or, I would just click "mark all as read" to make that glaringly large number of unread posts disappear.

So, day after day, this was happening. I was spending a good bit of the time that I had for reading blogs on sites that didn't even matter that much to me. And totally missing so many good things that were right in front of me.

And then, I was a bit horrified to discover that this was happening in lots of different places in my life. I looked at the stacks of books lying around our house, the ones I have been letting sit there until I had time to slowly read and absorb them - all the while skimming through others just to confirm that I wouldn't want them later before I donated them to someone who would put them to good use. I realized that I had dozens of emails in my inbox waiting for replies, ones that deserved a thorough and thoughtful response. Instead of trying to answer one or two a day, I focused first on ones that I could quickly reply too, leaving the ones that probably most needed my attention unanswered, sometimes for weeks. Those are just a few examples. Trust me, I could go on and on.

It's no wonder that I feel like I've spent most of my days waiting for something other than what is right in front of me. Because this is in fact what I have been doing each and every day.

Sigh.

But now I'm paying attention. I still have a good bit of inner work to do to uncover why I seem to measure my self-worth by productivity and how many items I can manage to check off of my to-do list. But, in the meantime, I need to act. So, I'm trying to be conscious of shortening my lists - to only write down what I realistically think I can accomplish in one day. I'm taking a lesson from Karen Maezen Miller over at Cheerio Road, a dedicated monotasker. And I'm putting first things first.

It's a start. And right now, I need to start someplace.

Do you have any habits hanging around that are hindering your growth? What helps you to change these deeply rooted patterns?

a new year, a new approach

This post is one that has been tumbling around in my head for quite some time. Having written so much about our journey to bring a child into this world, documenting how I have been changed by finally having a child feels like an important piece of my story, even if it isn't neat or tidy, and even if it doesn't show my best self. And, in the spirit of the portfolio project, I'm posting this despite my thoughts not feeling entirely complete or polished. In the next few weeks, I hope to post more on how I have worked through and continue to cope with some of the feelings lingering after the three years it took us to have our daughter.

 

my pregnant belly at 29 weeks

When I was pregnant with Thea, I wondered how I would feel once she was here safely. I never expected that having a living child would erase the sadness and grief I felt after our losses. However, I was hopeful that her presence in my life would shine a light into those dark places in my heart, and that this brightness would begin to cleanse my spirit of the jealousy, anger, and resentment that were still lurking in the shadows.

Almost immediately after Thea's birth, the jealousy I felt when seeing other little babies dissolved. But, still, I found myself feeling resentful and jealous when I encountered pregnant women. Really, the only pregnancies that didn't cause me heartache were those of fellow babyloss mamas. And there were times when even those were difficult for me to witness. I was confused about the way I felt. I was ashamed that after carrying my daughter for 36 weeks and delivering a live, healthy baby, I still felt so trapped by negativity.

{I also had a lot of shame around the cesarean birth of my daughter, despite this really being the only option to bring her safely into the world. Any other way would have put both my life and hers at great risk. However, exploring those feelings is another post altogether. But let's just say that I'm feeling much better about that now.}

In the first few months after Thea's birth, I spent a lot of time journaling, thinking, and internally processing. I needed to get to the core of what was causing these emotions. One of the pregnancies I was having a hard time coping with was that of a dear friend. I hated the way I felt. I kept thinking about being pregnant again. It felt like the only way I could resolve the feelings I was experiencing. And yet, I didn't want another baby, at least not then. It became clear quite quickly that these painful emotions were about the state of being pregnant, not about my desire to bring another person into the world and the responsibilities that come along with doing that.

I started paying attention to specifically what my triggers were. I wrote in my journal almost daily about these triggers, and I realized that there were certain things that cut deeper than others. I became aware that what brought on these feelings was other people having the kind of pregnancy and birth experience that I had wanted, but was not able to have.

You see, while pregnancy was very, very much about bringing a child into this world, I am learning that, for me, it was also about something else. During the three years that John and I were trying to become and stay pregnant, I had a lot of time to think about what it would be like - what I would be like - when I was finally growing that new life inside of me. I imagined myself in this zen state, trusting the process, focused and calm, getting in touch with my inner earth mama, journaling, meditating, doing prenatal yoga. Of course I would do prenatal yoga - I had dreamed about it for years. I would craft and nest and do all of those domestic things I had been dying to do. I would try my best for a natural birth. I was very much looking forward to laboring and pushing my child into this world.

Except that's not how any of it happened.

From the start of my pregnancy, I was incredibly ill, and this lasted for a good bit of my 36 weeks of pregnancy. I had to take medication nearly every single day to keep from  or limit my vomiting. I had spotting, was diagnosed with placenta previa, and, as a result, had to limit my activity for most of my pregnancy. My body kinda freaked out on me as a result of a neuromuscular disorder that I was later diagnosed with. We went to see either my OB or perinatologist almost every week. At 32 weeks, I had a hemmorhage and was in the hospital for a week and then on strict bedrest at home for another 2 weeks until I had another bleed. Throughout my pregnancy, I was worried sick, and spent a good part of my time simply trying to distract myself so that the days would pass. This distraction involved a lot of Netflix, sudoku, magazines, and HGTV.

{And, without a doubt, I would do it all over again to bring my sweet girl into this world.}

So, after Thea's birth, as I wrote and wrote and wrote, it became clear to me that the kind of person I had dreamed about becoming while pregnant was more than simply how I wanted to exist while pregnant - it was the kind of person that I wanted to be all the time. And, most often, I felt like I couldn't be further away from who I wanted to be and how I wanted to experience life. In all honesty, I think I simply did what I needed to do to make it through my pregnancy without losing myself in a deep well of fear and worry.  Reflecting on how I have changed as a result of having those five miscarriages, I am aware that those three years brought tremendous personal growth. However, in many parts of my life I was simply stuck, unsure how to move forward or not having the energy or clarity to do so. Looking back, I think I had so many hopes for pregnancy - not only that it would allow us to bring a child into this world - but also that it would help me fall into the rhythm of the life I had visualized.

The past few months have been an awakening for me. I realized that for much of my life, I have been waiting for something. I've been looking forward to that thing {insert any one of the following - entering college, graduating from college, getting a job, getting that job, earning an advanced degree, being disciplined enough to train for a marathon, closing difficult chapters, finding true love, exploring my creative side, getting pregnant, staying pregnant, birthing a baby} - that thing that will - at last - help everything else click into place.

But now, it has become very clear that there is no one thing that is going to cause this shift. If anything was going to cause this realignment, surely it would have been my pregnancy and the miraculous birth of our daughter. And yet, afterwards, even as I found myself filled with so much joy and love and wonder, there were parts of my life that I needed and wanted to grow into.

These days, I'm learning that the richness of life isn't about having arrived - it's about continuing to stretch and grow and to open my heart and mind wider.  I am learning that I can choose how I walk through my life, no matter if I find myself in the brightest or darkest of places. Each day - each moment - is a part of the journey - a chance to learn, to reflect, to recenter, to restart - to create the life I want to live. I am learning that that if there are qualities within myself that I'd like to nurture or skills I'd like to acquire, that there is no time like the present.

{And, I must admit, that I feel a little silly that it has taken me 30+ years to arrive here. Bear with me, folks.}

So, I would like for 2009 to be the start of really, truly living my life with intention. I want to be awake. I want to be mindful. I want to approach each day with purpose - even if the day I find myself in is filled only with the small tasks of daily living. I want to be present for the people that I love. I want to be intentional about my relationship with myself, my family, my friends, and my community. I want to stop waiting. I want to start creating.

This is what my heart is telling me that it needs. This is going to be hard work. But I believe it will be so, so worth it.

So tell me, in this new year, what does your heart need?

an invitation to rest

 

butternut squash soup

I've been feeling a bit weepy and moody this week, just wanting to curl up into myself. It's easy for me to find myself in here when I'm extra-tired and feeling pulled in too many directions, which has been the case as of late. When I feel the most overwhelmed and tired, taking time to rest and replenish usually falls way down on my list of things to do. Somehow, doing the dishes or vacuuming or catching up on correspondence always seems to happen first and then I just collapse from exhaustion without finding a few quiet moments to just be.

But this week, I've been thinking a lot about what this wise soul said about raising kids - that we can't give our children what we don't have and that finding time to rest and to invite creativity into our lives are a crucial part of it all. Because I know that I don't want to teach my daughter that taking care of herself isn't a valid priority through my refusal to simply slow down.

So, this week, I spent some time in my jewelry studio hammering metal and teaching myself a thing or two. As I played, I felt the pressure creep in - to get back into production mode so I can reopen my shop. And then I stopped and reminded myself that right now, this time at the workbench is just about play. And suddenly, I had dozens of ideas of things I wanted to make - this after months of feeling rather stuck. It felt good.

And this afternoon, while Thea slept for an unprecedented hour and a half, I chopped and simmered and stirred a most delicious soup. I felt grateful for the quiet when I could simply focus on the heft of my knife and the way the vegetables felt in my hands and the smells rising from the pot. And then it didn't feel much like work - it felt more like a salve for my tired spirit.

Welcome to the weekend. I hope you find a few moments to just rest, to just be.

you've come a long way, baby

Thea's first photo, just over a year ago.

And, my little toe-grabber at just over five months...

Are you the seed?
Are you a tree?
You can be anything
You want to be.

Everything is possible
Because you're a miracle
Everything is possible
When you're around
'Cause you're a miracle, uh-huh
A little miracle, oh yeah.

-from the album It's a Big World, by Renee and Jeremy

I'm in awe of how far we have come in just a year. This time last September, I was trying to hope, trying to trust, trying to believe.

Thank you, my love, for reminding me of what is possible - every day, every moment.

confession

You may have noticed that it's been a little quiet around here. Part of it is because my days and nights are pretty much consumed with loving on my little girl, and most recently, trying to coax her - often unsuccessfully - towards sleep. There's not much time left for blogging (or eating or showering).

But also, I've been wading through some heaviness in my heart, and I have been uncertain about how much to share. You see, friends, I am very much in need of a stay in what my friend Jen Lemen calls the "Soul Repair Garage."  Much of this heaviness is left over residue from our long journey to bring our daughter into this world.  I have found that my wounds have not completely healed, that the scars are still bright red and tender to the touch. I am trying to understand what these tender places have to teach me about myself and the opportunities for growth that they present. I feel they are leading to a deeper understanding of myself and of the shadows I have walked in for a long time, long before my journey to be a mother began, before all of the loss and pain cracked me wide open.

I have also been struggling with how much of my experience of motherhood to share in this space. Wrestling with this question has led me to reflect on why I started writing in the first place, why I continued to write through our experience of babyloss, and about what urges me to write now. I have always tried to be transparent in my writing, but for some reason, it feels quite frightening and overwhelming to do that now. I'm afraid that if I write about the hard parts - the messy parts - the battles with my ego - that it will appear that I'm complaining, or that I'm not completely and utterly in love with and grateful for my daughter. Because the truth is that I am in awe of her and the magic she brings into my life - every single moment of every day. I am completely and utterly grateful for her presence, and for the opportunities she gives me to stretch my soul, to widen my heart, to surrender.

So, that's what's going on in my little world. Thanks for being along for the ride - wherever it takes me.

 

unfinished thoughts

Since Thea's birth nearly 11 weeks ago, my heart has swelled - not only with love for my daughter and husband, but also with months and years of stagnant emotions that were finally forcing their way to the surface of my consciousness. My mind has been racing, trying to process all of the thoughts and feelings that I had turned away from during my pregnancy, when I was too fragile and tired and fearful to do anything but get through the day-to-day.

So, now, I find myself full to the brim with all of these thoughts - of our long journey to today, of my pregnancy and Thea's birth, of my experiences as a new mother - as well as of my continuing task of discovering my dreams and passions, my journey of self-definition, and my struggle to build self-confidence, overcome my fears, and explore my creative energy.

[And yes, that giant run-on sentence is exactly how my brain feels most days.]

I've started dozens of posts only to watch them sit unfinished. I have ideas for dozens more that I haven't even begun. I'm learning to accept that I may not be able to fully form and write about these thoughts - at least not for a good while.

And then, like magic, I stumbled across the weblogs of several fantastic women who are writing about exactly the things my soul had been sifting through. I read their words, nodding my head, whispering, "yes, that's it." I am grateful for their honesty, for their willingness to share about these things that so often remain tucked away inside, for their gift of placing words together so beautifully.

So, because these women have so eloquently given a voice to these thoughts, I'll point you in their direction so you can experience this magic for yourself:

Stacie writes about giving yourself permission to pursue your own unique creative energy and encourages us to take risks and open ourselves to possibilities.

Jen Lee writes about authenticity and truthfulness.

Brené Brown writes about embracing imperfection. Her whole series on imperfect parenting is nothing short of amazing.

Jena Strong writes about the importance of hope.

Sophie's Press writes about over-thinking life instead of experiencing it.

I hope you'll go and soak it all up.

awakening

evening primrose

The other day, I was posting some photos to flickr, and I stumbled across some stunning photos. Curious, I clicked on the photographer's profile. To my surprise, the she's a senior in high school. I then realized that her little sister - just 14 years old - has a photostream too, and her photos are just as gorgeous.

It got me thinking about when I was 18, and about how self-conscious and uncertain I was - how my heart was often filled with fear, how I was constantly questioning my self-worth, how I doubted my abilities. I did not have the courage to expose my creative inclinations. In fact, I doubted that I had any at all.

It has just been in the past 5 years or so that I feel like I've started to uncover who I really am. Before that, instead of living in the world authentically, I felt paralyzed and exhausted by constantly trying to figure out what I thought other people wanted me to be. I spent a good bit of my energy trying to live up to those expectations. And I nearly lost myself.

Over the past year, I had the good fortune to be able to spend my days peering deep down into the caverns of my soul, searching for neglected dreams and unrealized hopes that may have gone missing during my years of babyloss. I worked with a life coach who helped me ask myself really challenging questions and who nudged me forward into the unknown. I sat in stillness more than I have in years. I listened to what my heart whispered. I tried my best to spend my days doing what I wanted to do instead of what I thought I should do.

For the first time ever, I found myself engaged in creative play. You know, the kind where you can separate yourself from expectations of a particular outcome, and just lose yourself in the process. This everyday creative engagement let me practice approaching my entire life in a new way. I began to see myself differently. I was able to release a good bit of the fear I have been harboring for so many years. I uncovered strength that had been buried beneath the piles of rubble that fear had littered around my heart. There is much more work to be done, but I recognize that I have come a long way. I feel lighter. I feel awake. I feel alive.

This work of excavating my spirit, of building my confidence, of embracing my unique gifts and of recognizing my individuality seems so much more important now that Thea is in my life. I want to be an example of strength and confidence for her. I want to be the kind of woman that I hope she will grow into. I want her to live fearlessly, to feel confident in the unique brightness she brings to the world. I don’t want her to be so afraid.

And so I wonder...How did self-doubt come to hold me captive? When did meeting the expectations of others become more important than being true to myself?

Who would I be today if I hadn't been so afraid?

[And what was I so afraid of anyway?]

into the light

Last night, I dreamt that I lost her.

We were waiting for her adoption to be finalized; I was counting the days until we could bring her home. Technically, she wasn't yet my daughter, but I knew that I was supposed to be her mother.

And then she was gone. I wasn't sure how or why, but I felt certain I would never see her again.

I woke in a panic, my hands desperately searching for her. And there she was, sleeping soundly beside me.

It had all been a nightmare, a terrible mistake.

I wept, relieved, still trembling with fear.

And though she was safe - though she was right there next to me - fear gripped my heart tightly, refusing to release its grip.

During my pregnancy, fear found me on a daily basis. Sometimes it simply lurked near the surface of my awareness. Sometimes, I was nearly swallowed by its intensity. After everything, each day required a conscious decision to believe in possibilities instead of the past, to believe in hope instead of fear.

The passing weeks - weeks bringing us closer to her arrival - also brought new challenges, new complications. Toward the end of my pregnancy, John and I held each other close, whispering our doubts:

What if we don't make it?

What if we're not strong enough?

What will we do if the  unthinkable happens?

In hushed voices, we talked about death.

And now she is here. Each day, I spend hours gazing at her, marveling at her presence, often in utter disbelief that she is alive and well. And each day - at least once - {if not a dozen times} - I am gripped by fear, terrified that I will lose her.

Countless scenarios flash before me . Car accidents. SIDS. Horrible illnesses. These are just a few.

When these thoughts force their way into my mind, I attempt to bring myself back to the present. I try to pay attention to what is right in front of me. Over and over, I remind myself, "In this moment, she is safe."

But while I know that worrying about the "what-ifs" distracts me from the magic of the present moment,the fear remains - lingering, lurking, pulling me back.

And so, in those moments of doubt, I will continue to search for new ways to embrace the now, to face uncertainty, to walk out of the shadows and into the light.