5/24/12
This morning at 6am, I walked into my daughter's room and woke her from a deep peaceful sleep. She was sleeping on her back, and her little arm was draped over her forehead... so innocent, and so unaware of the morning that lay ahead of her. My heart filled when I saw her and then sank, as I dreaded waking her from this sweet place of peace and safety.
Today my daughter had a minor, routine surgery to open a blocked tear duct that has been that way since birth.
Beginning around 11 months of age, she has been very afraid of doctors' offices... I often wonder if she remembers getting shots at previous appointments, and associates visiting that place with experiencing pain. (Do these shots ever end?!?) It has been difficult - the last several months visiting the doctor, and now the ophthalmologist, as she begins to get anxious and cries as soon as we walk into one of the small patient rooms. It's like she just KNOWS that something bad is about to happen. The anxiety comes in waves, as anxiety generally does. And there is not much we can do to calm her down at this age, which is hard.
Today we went through surgery prep, dressed in gowns, and walked Hazel into the operating room. She was afraid and upset, and when we walked into the OR Hazel looked at all the strange people in scrubs, funny hats, and masks...and she lost whatever temporary composure she had mustered. We then had to put her on the operating table and hold her down while the anesthesiologist fought to hold the mask over her sweet little red screaming face. Ugh. Mike and I sang a familiar song into her ear and told her how well she was doing, and both struggled to keep it together as we watched our sweet girl fight in fear. And after a few seconds that felt like years, her tense little body began to relax as the medicine began to do its thing. Soon, she was resting peacefully, and Mike and I left the room so the doctor could do his work and we could fall apart for a few moments in our own private waiting room.
A short time later, the surgery was finished and Hazel was sleeping peacefully once again, just like she was when she started the morning. When she woke, she was disoriented but recovered well. And we were all grateful that the whole thing was over.
How fortunate we are, that it could be over.
I know many parents have been through a similar experience, and I know some have been through way way worse...
...who have tragic stories of suffering and pain and trauma and loss.
God be with them.
God be with those parents who have/had chronically ill children or children with serious medical conditions... children who log procedure after procedure, and doctor visits that become part of their regular routine.
God be with those children, who feel sick and scared... who have to experience pain or discomfort on a regular basis and the disruption of continued medical treatment.
God be with those doctors and nurses, who dedicate their lives to helping children who are sick and scared and/or in pain. Who I can only imagine must be affected each and every day with the weight of the important work they do... and thank God that they do it.
I hate it so much that children (or anyone, for that matter) EVER have to be sick, or scared or in pain.
All things considered, it wasn't an easy day for us, and we are relieved and grateful that our daughter was restored to a place of peace after her minor surgical procedure was over. And what we went through was SO VERY MINOR in comparison to what others have faced/will face.
My heart is heavy when I think of those parents, those children, and those doctors/nurses who live in a perpetual world of procedures, scrubs and operating rooms. What amazing strength and courage they display, over and over again, in the midst of the scary realities they often face. I hope and I pray, that they find moments of quiet during their difficult times. That they each might have their own sanctuary, whatever that might be... a place to visit when they need a break and a safe space to live in for a while. And most of all, I wish for them, that they will never lose hope in the possibility of peace.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The importance of feet
I know there are many people out there who are severely grossed out by feet. Feet can be dirty, smelly, calloused and corned. And they can create an unbelievable funk living inside of hot, sweaty shoes all day long. Feet can get mangled and tortured, squeezed inside of designer heels, and result in horrible eye candy. And don't even get me started on dancers' feet. Oy. Despite the fantastic potential funkiness of feet, I feel that they are highly under appreciated, and overall get a bad wrap. I feel that, aside from their obvious and crucial functionality, they deserve to be seen in a different light.
Feet are very important in our household.
My love of dance carried me into a major in dance at James Madison University. It was through the dance and theater community that I met Mike. I think back on the first night that he came over to my college apartment. It was Superbowl Sunday, and we had invited friends over to watch the game and then watch the movie, Life Is Beautiful. I had worked up the guts to invite Mike over, and he had agreed to come after the game. I liked him - but I had no idea how he felt about me. That night after the movie finished, Mike and I sat side by side on the couch with my other friends and roommates, laughing and telling jokes. At a certain point, I realized that Mike had nonchalantly slid his socked feet under my leg. This subtle gesture communicated everything that we weren't saying out loud; that he was comfortable around me. Mike spoke with his feet that night and I knew, in that moment, that he really liked me.
When I was pregnant with Hazel, I decided to work almost right up to my due date. I was due on January 30th, and January 26th was my last day in the office. It just so happened, that January 26th was one of the biggest snowstorms we had seen in DC for years. It began in the early afternoon, right before the rigorous DC rush hour hit. I couldn't leave the office until 4pm or so, as I was trying to wrap things up for the following 3 months of maternity leave. The combination of quick-falling, heavy, wet snow and massive traffic (not to mention everyone fleeing from work early to attempt to beat the storm) was not good. I got stuck in the car for 5 hours that night. The last 4 hours or so, I was at a complete stand still about 2 miles from our house. All I could see was white - everywhere I looked. People had abandoned their cars right where they were in the middle of the street, huge trees were laying across major roadways... it was a real mess. Mike was so stressed and so worried for the health and safety of me and the baby. He felt helpless. He was terrified that I would go into labor, sitting in that car. He made up his mind that he was coming to get us, although I told him I was okay. He strapped on a backpack with some essentials, put on a head light and his snow boots, and hiked through several feet of heavy snow to meet me where I was. And I was so incredibly relieved to see him coming towards me - safe - hiking through the sea of white. He used his feet as a powerful tool that night - to get to his very pregnant, very hungry, very stranded wife. To bravely express his care and concern for me and our unborn child, and to do what he could to make sure we would be safe... to make sure that we would, at least, be together.
Beginning about half way through my pregnancy, I knew Hazel would have active, expressive feet. She was a long baby, and her legs curled around my torso and I could feel her sweet feet constantly dancing, kicking, and tickling the right side of my belly. And after Hazel was born, she continued to express herself through her feet. In those early middle of the night feedings, I would bring Hazel into our bed and nurse her lying on my side with my legs bent around her. And Hazel would stretch her feet out so that they would touch my legs... so that she could make contact with her feet. And she continued to do that, every time we were in this position. I can't really explain how this made me feel or what exactly she was feeling in those moments, but these seemingly small, insignificant connections with her tiny feet seemed to communicate to me that Hazel was secure, comfortable, safe, and loved. They felt anything but insignificant to me.
All things considered... when I think of feet, I don't think of smelly, dirty, funky appendages. I see dance, I see beauty, and so much more than meets the eye (or nose). I think of sensitive, open receptors of communication, and the transporters of important messages. I see steady, sturdy servants that take us through the worst of conditions to reach the ones we love. I see expression of life and energy, and I see the sweet, warm, safe, comfort of connection through intimate moments.
And I think of home.
Feet are very important in our household.
My love of dance carried me into a major in dance at James Madison University. It was through the dance and theater community that I met Mike. I think back on the first night that he came over to my college apartment. It was Superbowl Sunday, and we had invited friends over to watch the game and then watch the movie, Life Is Beautiful. I had worked up the guts to invite Mike over, and he had agreed to come after the game. I liked him - but I had no idea how he felt about me. That night after the movie finished, Mike and I sat side by side on the couch with my other friends and roommates, laughing and telling jokes. At a certain point, I realized that Mike had nonchalantly slid his socked feet under my leg. This subtle gesture communicated everything that we weren't saying out loud; that he was comfortable around me. Mike spoke with his feet that night and I knew, in that moment, that he really liked me.
When I was pregnant with Hazel, I decided to work almost right up to my due date. I was due on January 30th, and January 26th was my last day in the office. It just so happened, that January 26th was one of the biggest snowstorms we had seen in DC for years. It began in the early afternoon, right before the rigorous DC rush hour hit. I couldn't leave the office until 4pm or so, as I was trying to wrap things up for the following 3 months of maternity leave. The combination of quick-falling, heavy, wet snow and massive traffic (not to mention everyone fleeing from work early to attempt to beat the storm) was not good. I got stuck in the car for 5 hours that night. The last 4 hours or so, I was at a complete stand still about 2 miles from our house. All I could see was white - everywhere I looked. People had abandoned their cars right where they were in the middle of the street, huge trees were laying across major roadways... it was a real mess. Mike was so stressed and so worried for the health and safety of me and the baby. He felt helpless. He was terrified that I would go into labor, sitting in that car. He made up his mind that he was coming to get us, although I told him I was okay. He strapped on a backpack with some essentials, put on a head light and his snow boots, and hiked through several feet of heavy snow to meet me where I was. And I was so incredibly relieved to see him coming towards me - safe - hiking through the sea of white. He used his feet as a powerful tool that night - to get to his very pregnant, very hungry, very stranded wife. To bravely express his care and concern for me and our unborn child, and to do what he could to make sure we would be safe... to make sure that we would, at least, be together.
Beginning about half way through my pregnancy, I knew Hazel would have active, expressive feet. She was a long baby, and her legs curled around my torso and I could feel her sweet feet constantly dancing, kicking, and tickling the right side of my belly. And after Hazel was born, she continued to express herself through her feet. In those early middle of the night feedings, I would bring Hazel into our bed and nurse her lying on my side with my legs bent around her. And Hazel would stretch her feet out so that they would touch my legs... so that she could make contact with her feet. And she continued to do that, every time we were in this position. I can't really explain how this made me feel or what exactly she was feeling in those moments, but these seemingly small, insignificant connections with her tiny feet seemed to communicate to me that Hazel was secure, comfortable, safe, and loved. They felt anything but insignificant to me.
All things considered... when I think of feet, I don't think of smelly, dirty, funky appendages. I see dance, I see beauty, and so much more than meets the eye (or nose). I think of sensitive, open receptors of communication, and the transporters of important messages. I see steady, sturdy servants that take us through the worst of conditions to reach the ones we love. I see expression of life and energy, and I see the sweet, warm, safe, comfort of connection through intimate moments.
And I think of home.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
10 things...
As a social worker, I utilize a strengths-based approach with clients. I encourage them to see the things that they are good at, and encourage them to build on these strengths. I work to decrease the focus on deficits, and increase the focus on positive qualities that can empower them to know their own worth. Their own internal strengths. To build self-esteem, and to hope that they will make positive choices as a result.
Using a strength-based approach with others is like second nature to me.
But when it comes to approaching my own worth, why is it so much harder to apply this same theory of practice?
Oh, double standards.
Some days are better than others. Some days, I feel insecure and unsure about myself, and what I can offer to this world. I compare myself to others, and see only the things that I'm not good at - the areas where I fall short. And I struggle with guilt, and all the things I'm not doing for those that I care about, or not doing for myself. I wonder what people think of me. And I see all the things in my home and life that need to be done, and all the things that I have left undone. And in my head, I compile lists like this:
10 things I'm not good at:
1) writing thank you notes
2) cleaning the bathrooms
3) cleaning out my car/purse
4) home decorating
5) shopping
6) getting rid of old clothes/stuff
7) being on time
8) organizing
9) going to bed early
10) asking for help
Oh, the list could go on, but I spare myself the discomfort and stop at 10.
And then other days, things are better. I feel good about myself, and how hard I work. How much I love, and how I contribute to my family, my community, and society. I am graceful with my own heart, and can glimpse my own worth as a person of value. And in my head, I compile a list like this:
10 things I am good at:
1) following a recipe
2) managing finances
3) empathy
4) going with the flow
5) forgiveness
6) reading nonverbal cues
7) seeing the good in people
8) making Hazel laugh
9) hugging
10) sincerity
In my work with clients, in my relationships with family members and friends, and in my own evolving self-awareness - I realize how important it is to accept and embrace who we are - the good, bad, and the in between. How critical it is to fight the natural tendency to compare ourselves to others, and to embrace the uniqueness that we all inhabit. To accept the areas of our lives where we are less than perfect, and to identify where we have room for growth. To feel good about the areas where we excel, to examine our strengths, and how they carry us through the terrain of our often rocky lives.
To practice grace, honesty, and compassion. With others, but more importantly and with much more difficulty - with ourselves.
All things considered, it's the positive that outweighs the negative.
It's the second 10 things that count the most.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The way you do the things you do
Dear Hazel,
I want to remember this fleeting time in your life, as each new phase in your short 15 months on earth has come and gone so quickly. To preserve a picture of you in my mind and the essence of you in my heart, at each new step of the way. I want to remember the funny things that you say and do right now. So I'm writing you this letter for you to read when you are older, and for us to look back and to remember the sweet Hazel of today.
We have many nicknames for you. Some include bubba, baby girl, Haze, Hazelnut, punkin, etc. I like to call you our wild lady. You are a doer. A mover and a shaker. A spirited young lass. You love doing many things. You love to laugh, to smile, to dance during mealtimes in your highchair, to dance anytime, to read books, to vocalize and make sounds - a LOT, to walk outside, to walk up and down stairs (with assistance), to play with puzzles, to chase the cat, to be chased, to "brush" your own teeth, to smile your sneaky smile while doing something you are not supposed to do, to open and close doors and cabinets, to pull out the contents of said cabinets, to make music of any kind - to play the drums, maracas, or tambourine....these are some of the things you enjoy doing today.
You talk all the time. We were so excited the first time you muttered the beloved words, mama and dada. (Dada was first. Boooo.) And as of today, these are the words that you say or have said at some point:
1) hi
2) buh bye
3) light
4) bah (ball)
5) doh (door)
6) keeee (key)
7) booon (balloon)
8) tank too (thank you)
9) stickeeee (stinky)
10) wow
11) uh-oh
12) nuh nuh (no)
13) hey-o? (hello?)
14) bee-bee (baby)
15) mimi (your paternal grandmother)
17) mama-mama (grandma and papa - maternal grandparents)
18) nana (banana)
19) ra-ra (dog, cat, squirrel or any other animal)
You wave hello and goodbye, but usually five minutes after we have arrived or left. You give high fives. You kiss people on the mouth. You hug our legs when you are tired or feeling affectionate. You pull up our shirts and look at our bellies, comparing them to your own. You can point to your nose, ears, mouth, teeth, eyes, hair, belly, knees, fingers, and feet, when we ask you to. You explore new places with abandon (most of the time, and mostly indoor places). However, you are very afraid of the doctor's office - and you aren't the biggest fan of the doctors/nurses either. You cry when other children cry, even if you are not hurt. You love to look at pictures, and can point to family members when we say their names.
And here are some of your newer demonstrations/explorations of Hazel-hood: You sit down or lay flat on your stomach with your arms out while being defiant or in protest; you pick up your dirty diaper, take it to the trash can and throw it in; you can eat with a utensil, when you feel like it -sort-of; you casually throw your sippy cup on the floor during meals, then look up and smile; you can now crawl up onto the couch by yourself, keeping your parents on their toes; you eat dirt/mulch when we are outside or at the playground, giving your mother a mild heart attack; and just today, for the first time, you spun yourself around in a circle and giggled when you got dizzy.
These are some of the things you do today, during this phase of your life. Please know and don't forget - the things you DO, although amazing, do not define the person that you are. The person you ARE, on the inside, is different. And so much more.
You are a funny little nut. You make us so happy, just being you. Being the quirky, fun, talkative, sweet, wild lady you are. We can't wait to keep watching you grow, and to see who you will become. Thank you, for enriching our lives, for making us laugh, for making us humble, and for blessing us beyond what any words could ever express.
All things considered, you are Hazel. And we love you more than you will ever know.
I want to remember this fleeting time in your life, as each new phase in your short 15 months on earth has come and gone so quickly. To preserve a picture of you in my mind and the essence of you in my heart, at each new step of the way. I want to remember the funny things that you say and do right now. So I'm writing you this letter for you to read when you are older, and for us to look back and to remember the sweet Hazel of today.
We have many nicknames for you. Some include bubba, baby girl, Haze, Hazelnut, punkin, etc. I like to call you our wild lady. You are a doer. A mover and a shaker. A spirited young lass. You love doing many things. You love to laugh, to smile, to dance during mealtimes in your highchair, to dance anytime, to read books, to vocalize and make sounds - a LOT, to walk outside, to walk up and down stairs (with assistance), to play with puzzles, to chase the cat, to be chased, to "brush" your own teeth, to smile your sneaky smile while doing something you are not supposed to do, to open and close doors and cabinets, to pull out the contents of said cabinets, to make music of any kind - to play the drums, maracas, or tambourine....these are some of the things you enjoy doing today.
You talk all the time. We were so excited the first time you muttered the beloved words, mama and dada. (Dada was first. Boooo.) And as of today, these are the words that you say or have said at some point:
1) hi
2) buh bye
3) light
4) bah (ball)
5) doh (door)
6) keeee (key)
7) booon (balloon)
8) tank too (thank you)
9) stickeeee (stinky)
10) wow
11) uh-oh
12) nuh nuh (no)
13) hey-o? (hello?)
14) bee-bee (baby)
15) mimi (your paternal grandmother)
17) mama-mama (grandma and papa - maternal grandparents)
18) nana (banana)
19) ra-ra (dog, cat, squirrel or any other animal)
You wave hello and goodbye, but usually five minutes after we have arrived or left. You give high fives. You kiss people on the mouth. You hug our legs when you are tired or feeling affectionate. You pull up our shirts and look at our bellies, comparing them to your own. You can point to your nose, ears, mouth, teeth, eyes, hair, belly, knees, fingers, and feet, when we ask you to. You explore new places with abandon (most of the time, and mostly indoor places). However, you are very afraid of the doctor's office - and you aren't the biggest fan of the doctors/nurses either. You cry when other children cry, even if you are not hurt. You love to look at pictures, and can point to family members when we say their names.
And here are some of your newer demonstrations/explorations of Hazel-hood: You sit down or lay flat on your stomach with your arms out while being defiant or in protest; you pick up your dirty diaper, take it to the trash can and throw it in; you can eat with a utensil, when you feel like it -sort-of; you casually throw your sippy cup on the floor during meals, then look up and smile; you can now crawl up onto the couch by yourself, keeping your parents on their toes; you eat dirt/mulch when we are outside or at the playground, giving your mother a mild heart attack; and just today, for the first time, you spun yourself around in a circle and giggled when you got dizzy.
These are some of the things you do today, during this phase of your life. Please know and don't forget - the things you DO, although amazing, do not define the person that you are. The person you ARE, on the inside, is different. And so much more.
You are a funny little nut. You make us so happy, just being you. Being the quirky, fun, talkative, sweet, wild lady you are. We can't wait to keep watching you grow, and to see who you will become. Thank you, for enriching our lives, for making us laugh, for making us humble, and for blessing us beyond what any words could ever express.
All things considered, you are Hazel. And we love you more than you will ever know.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
A Mother's Work
Mike and I have been watching the AMC show Mad Men. I love it. Besides being just an all-around excellent show, it's fascinating to watch how history unfolds and how things change over time during the series - especially for women. How men treated women, how society treated women, what the norms and expectations were, etc. Traditionally, men were the breadwinners and women were the caretakers - of family and home. The show explores how, during that time, women were beginning to become more accepted in the workforce, and how our options were expanding. How women fought to bring themselves into a more even playing field with men. (Or into the field, at all). Watching how society was trending even then, you would think that by now, we would have come so far in terms of equality. In terms of freedom of choice for women, and acceptance by society of what women decide to do with their lives -with their work, their family, their homes, etc. We have come far - but not nearly far enough. Women are still held to a scrupulous level of expectation. And often judged, no matter what she decides.
Now, I don't classify myself as a feminist. And this post isn't a "man versus woman" thing. It's actually more of a "woman versus woman" thing. It's about the highly charged, ridiculous (in my opinion), judgement-laden battle that exists in our society between the notion of "working moms" and "stay at home" moms. And it hurts my heart to know that there are so many women judging women, men judging women, women judging themselves - about this powerful, personal choice of what to do once we have children in our lives. As if having something as life-changing and identity-shifting as having a child isn't hard enough.
And I know from personal experience, that this is a pain-staking, difficult, heavy decision to make. It's extremely complex. It pulls on so many emotional cords and intersects with hard realities of life. The decision to work or to stay at home is so much more than a discussion about shifting to life with one income. It's all-encompassing. It incorporates themes of identity, self-worth, expectation, financial responsibility, family values, and so much more.
And for some, the decision may be simpler than for others. But here's how I feel - no one, NO ONE knows all the details of what is going on in someone else's life, and why they make the decisions they do. Perhaps you're a single mother who has no other choice but to work outside the home to financially support her family. Or perhaps your husband makes plenty of money and you could stay home, but you love your job. It gives you esteem and worth. And to not do your job would make you overall an unhappy/unhealthy person, and therefore, not the best mother to your child. Or perhaps it's not financially doable or responsible to stay home with your children. Or perhaps you've decided that your heart is set on staying home with your children - even if you were attached to your work or not. And financially, this will work for your family. Bottom line is, everyone makes the decision that is right and feasible for their own family, and their own family situation.
So, I'm confused. I'm confused because, since all mothers out there know how difficult and heavy and emotionally charged this decision is - why do we continue to judge each other? Why aren't we supporting each other in this delicate place? Why do we compare our lives, stating that one choice is better than the other? Why is it so hard to relate to people who make a different decision than our own? Why is this such a huge debate? Why can't all we have more compassion for someone else's struggle to decide?
Sigh.
I don't know. Perhaps we're all human, after all.
I currently work part-time. (And in the essence of full disclosure - we are extremely fortunate and beyond grateful to have my generous, caring in-laws who live 10 minutes from us, take care of our daughter on the days/times that I work. Without whom, working part-time may not be an option for us.) And so I feel like I get a little glimpse into both worlds - the working mom world, and the stay at home mom world. And I can say, that BOTH are extremely challenging and come with their own joys and struggles.
Anyone who says that staying at home with their children is not "work", is completely uninformed. It is the greatest sacrifice of personal space and time, and it's constant. Constant work. And I know from talking to full-time stay at home moms that it can be extremely isolating, lonely, and mind-numbingly tedious. On the days that I'm home with my daughter, sometimes I don't have time to eat lunch - or I eat while doing four other things. And by the time she goes to bed at 8pm, I'm usually ready to fall over, too. It's exhausting. I had NO idea what this was like before I had a child of my own. I was completely uninformed. However, I love it at the same time. I have so much joy, being with my little girl. There are moments of true amazement and bliss. Days at home with her are so full.
And for working moms... life can sometimes be compared to a crazy train. Not enough time to fit it all in. And your mind and heart is often divided between your work world and home world. And you work all day, then come home and work until the kids go to bed. This can be lonely and isolating, too - because amidst all the responsibility at work and at home, maybe there isn't enough time left to nurture your marriage/relationship, close friendships, or relationships with extended family members. (Not to mention, time to nurture yourself.) And, I know from talking to some of my full-time working mom friends that although they may love their jobs, they sometimes struggle with guilt for not being home more. What a horrible emotional weight to carry... on top of everything else.
For me, although it can be extremely demanding, I personally enjoy my work very much. And I enjoy having the break from being home. (I even feel guilty writing this, honest as it is. Ugh.) And it's financially responsible for us. It feels like a healthy balance for me - right now, anyways. Things can always shift, and inevitably, they do.
And so I just wish.... I just aspire from the depths of my being, for our society and for our women and our moms, that we could all value equally the work that we do - whether in the home or out. And that we could all live without this ever-pervasive "mom guilt" that is like a dagger to our hearts. And that we could choose freely, without the fear of judgement, from self or others. And that we didn't have to spend any energy at all trying to defend why we're doing what we do. Whatever it is. I just wish.
All things considered, we may be a long way off. But, I don't think it's too much to wish for.
She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along. ~Margaret Culkin Banning
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Blogger's block?
I've had this blog for all of 2 weeks, and already I've hit a rough patch. I've been working on several posts simultaneously for the past week, and nothing seems to stick. Or to make total sense. Or to be post-worthy. With book-reading, I like to say that I have reader's ADD. I'm currently reading about 8 books. I start them, read a couple of chapters, and then can't keep up the steam. I get bored. And then I pick up another book in the hopes that I'll be interested enough/disciplined enough to read through to the end. Yikes. Perhaps I need to select better reading material.
I really hope I don't develop blogger's ADD.
My husband recently asked me why I started this blog. He asked what was my goal, intention, or purpose that I had in mind. Well, mostly, I think I just wanted a place to log my thoughts. To get the constant, swirling, commentary out of my brain and onto "paper." And also, to connect with others. It is a driving force in who I am and what I do, and a blog seemed like it could be a natural extension of me - a great platform to connect. I also feel that I express myself better through writing than I do my spoken word. My brain tends to jumble things up in the moment, and I'm not always sure I say the things I mean to say, or that I say them well. Unlike many bloggers, and needless to say, I don't write professionally (although in grad school it sure felt like I did). So it's also fun to try my hand and heart at it, and it's so wonderful to get feedback along the way. I actually know very little about blogging - I think I followed two blogs with any remote regularity at all prior to starting my own.
In addition to these things, I love the idea that I am creating a record of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences, so that one day my daughter can read them and perhaps know more about her mom. About my inner world and how I feel about life, love, struggle, and most importantly - how I feel about her, and how she has changed my life. And all the things I will likely forget to say.
So, I'm writing this post. Because I told myself I needed to. And I'm going to post it tonight, as a practice in completion and acceptance of imperfection.
All things considered, I'm so humbled that you took the time to read. And, I'd really like to continue my journey as a blogger.
Wish me luck.
I really hope I don't develop blogger's ADD.
My husband recently asked me why I started this blog. He asked what was my goal, intention, or purpose that I had in mind. Well, mostly, I think I just wanted a place to log my thoughts. To get the constant, swirling, commentary out of my brain and onto "paper." And also, to connect with others. It is a driving force in who I am and what I do, and a blog seemed like it could be a natural extension of me - a great platform to connect. I also feel that I express myself better through writing than I do my spoken word. My brain tends to jumble things up in the moment, and I'm not always sure I say the things I mean to say, or that I say them well. Unlike many bloggers, and needless to say, I don't write professionally (although in grad school it sure felt like I did). So it's also fun to try my hand and heart at it, and it's so wonderful to get feedback along the way. I actually know very little about blogging - I think I followed two blogs with any remote regularity at all prior to starting my own.
In addition to these things, I love the idea that I am creating a record of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences, so that one day my daughter can read them and perhaps know more about her mom. About my inner world and how I feel about life, love, struggle, and most importantly - how I feel about her, and how she has changed my life. And all the things I will likely forget to say.
So, I'm writing this post. Because I told myself I needed to. And I'm going to post it tonight, as a practice in completion and acceptance of imperfection.
All things considered, I'm so humbled that you took the time to read. And, I'd really like to continue my journey as a blogger.
Wish me luck.
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