Monday, June 8th, 2015: Hollis' original due date. He is sleeping soundly on my chest as I type. It's hard to believe he would still have been in my belly. To the untrained eye, you'd never know we have been through the fight of our lives. We are finally all healthy and settling in to our new routine as a family of four. David is off from his teaching job for the summer, so we've been given this rare gift of time together, uninterrupted but for feedings, diaper changes, and unforeseen toddler meltdowns. In the midst of the onslaught of chaos, trauma and fear, we longed for the quiet of the mundane, the ordinary, the simple, and our longings have at last been satisfied...
Home.
Home. Where my thoughts escape. Home. Where the music's playing. Home. Where my love lies waiting silently for me...... Hollis is home! Thank you for your love.
Ten Random Things You Learn on High-Risk Pregnancy Hospital Bed Rest:
en Random Things You Learn on High-Risk Pregnancy Hospital Bed Rest:
1. The nurses are your ticket to good living. Always have a basket of candy and snacks in your room and offer treats to every staff person who enters. Also, have your fabulous, generous mom drop-off random deliveries of donuts, pizza, or pastries at the nurses station. Eventually, the awesome nurses will fight over getting you as their patient. This will always work in your favor...
Legacy
I feel the need to share a few things that have been burning in my chest since Monday. I am afraid to post anything, but I don’t consider that a good reason to withhold vulnerability. In terms of feeling at home in the world around me, this has been one of the hardest weeks I’ve had in a long time.
Despite being an SAE from OU, my father is neither a racist nor a bigot. That’s certainly not the opinion of the internet this week, but it is the truth. Anyone who knows him would tell you he is a man of great character. A gentle giant, a kind man, loyal to the core. The repulsive events of last weekend have hit many of us hard-...
This has to change
When I was 20, I left college to enter a treatment facility for an eating disorder. I was in really bad shape mentally and emotionally. After I was inpatient for over a month, insurance eventually denied coverage and I was released earlier than my doctors and treatment team felt was right for me. This left a huge burden on my parents that I regret to this day. Despite a 76 page document created by my treatment team stating why it was medically necessary for me to continue inpatient care, the insurance company said I wasn't thin enough and therefore I wasn't worth treating. It's a really messed up thing to tell a girl with an eating disorder that she's not skinny enough to deserve care. Did you know 23 people die every day from eating disorders? I invite you to follow the link below and learn more about a really worthwhile project to raise awareness.
Aging Gracefully?
Today while in a room with other bridal party women and stylists, I listened with a sad heart to their lively discourse about all the work they hoped to have done as they age. They commented about women they knew and how good they look after this or that peel or laser or tuck. I was taken aback by the sheer lack of acceptance and peace among these women. There was not a hint of okayness with what will eventually beset us all as we age. It was such a stark contrast to the journey and healing I have grappled with over the past few years. I am nowhere near perfect in this and I'm not seeking to pass judgment, merely observing. And while it helped me see how far I've come, it also made me incredibly sad for the culture we have created around shaming women rather than loving and accepting them. We have so far to go.
Chin up.
Hello! You're loved. Every last diverse, opinionated one of you. You all matter. If you're reading this, you were given another glorious day on this earth to practice kindness and compassion to those in your path. Use this day well! It's all going to be okay. Chin up.
Restaurant Ettiquette
Beatrice is struggling to understand how restaurants work. When the server takes a plate or a cup for a refill she points and yells, "No! No!" It's like they're taking her toys. We've been calmly explaining to her that servers are just doing their job, and we should respond with kindness and by saying "Thank you." As of today, she now yells, "No! Job! No! Job!" I'm fairly certain something major has been lost in translation.
Let Myself Go
Who am I trying to impress? I ask myself this question a lot lately. And the answer varies wildly. Sometimes it’s a group of people, other times it’s an elusive “they”. Sometimes it’s a work colleague or audience, other times it’s my mother, or what I think my mother would want. I don’t know what it feels like to be a guy. I do know what it’s like to be a woman. The pressures, both spoken and implied, to look good and always be at my best are fairly intense. Part of this is the culture in which I was raised. To this day, if I’m socializing with certain people I grew up with, I put myself through the ringer from head to toe. I worry what they think of me, heaps of deep, under the surface anxiety. And no matter what I’ve done to feel pretty, polished, put together, it’s not enough. Yes, a great deal of this is leftover from the ninth grade. Still, I never feel like I’ve hit the mark. But I wouldn’t dare just come as I am and risk being judged, seen, fully known.
Mother's Day
Somewhere in your town this week, women of all ethnicities, sizes, ages and circumstance walked nervously into a waiting room. Some of them have been there before. Many times before. The receptionist knows their names. For others, this is their first visit. All of them share a single desire: to conceive and carry a child to term. To be a mom. These women are in your life, but you probably don’t know their struggle. Few talk about it, really. It’s a lonely, pain-filled, heart-breaking journey. This dream they have...