Monday, December 5, 2011

Rambeling and remembering...

I started this blog after my daughter left her body. I wanted to be able to express my grief, honor it, and be able to hopefully look back and find growth and healing. I wanted another mom who had lost a daughter to find this blog and say "I am not alone, it doesn't fix it but at least I am not alone." I needed this to be a place I could say anything I needed and not worry that I was being a drag or bumming someone out. In real life the person who is grieving continues to grieve long after everyone else has moved on with their lives, for us it lasts forever.

I think the blog has done it's job, my words have reached people they needed to and having the freedom to talk about my daughter or whatever else is going on feels right with my soul. This blog has been a letter to myself, it reminds me that there I was and here I am, this is what I did, and I am still standing.

The days that I melt down and don't feel like I can get up are farther apart. I don't wake up every morning and cry anymore. I don't go to the cemetery every Thursday and I stopped going on the 19th of every month, now I go on her death day, her birthday and sometimes just because.

I still talk to her every single day, I write her love letters in the steam on the shower door. I keep her things, the few things she left behind in her closet but I don't visit them like I use to now they are here because it hold her place, they are symbolic, nothing can take her place, nothing will erase where she has been in our lives.

There are still times when I can't catch my breath because the pain is too big for me but I know I will move through it,that it's just what I must do, what I must feel, then it fades and things begin to hum and move and happen.

I tried to have another baby, for so many reasons, most that make sense to no one but me or a mother who has lost a child. I have put my heart and my body through so much in the last three years trying to make this happen. Finally it did happen and my much wanted, waited for, fought for little girl was here, growing, kicking, stretching...then she wasn't. Claire died, it was a random mutation that had nothing to do with anything anyone could explain. It could have and does happen to many people and she and I happened to be those people. I once again left the hospital without my child.

You would think that all this loss has broken me and I would give up but I can't and I won't.

I am not made out of give up stuff, if I was I would not still be here. My whole life has been about challenges and I am a girl who isn't afraid for long of them. I am a kicker and screamer, I am not told "no" easily and it would be a mistake to underestimate my strength.

There is something in me (in all of us) that knows what is right for us. It is a feeling that is deep inside you and hard to shake but it has a gentle voice. This "something" says "this is for you, but it's your choice, do the right thing" As most of us know the right thing for us isn't always the right thing for everyone else. As a mother I put my children first, my family first. If I have a little of something it is all theirs. If they all want to swim at the deep end I paddle out, even though I am afraid. If they all need me home when I want to be somewhere else, home is where I am because I would rather be with them than without them even if I am missing something else.

I don't think I am unusual when I say "I have lived my life for other people" I don't mean it to sound dramatic or like I am a martyr, I am not, I chose this, it is what I love and when my family is happy I am happy. Over the years I use to think "someday it will be my turn" and when I wondered how I would feel if that day never came, I didn't care. I wanted to be a mom, since I was seven, I wanted to be lots of other things too but a mom most.

I still do. Someone asked me once, and trust me she said it in a loving way, "after all this why would you still want to be a mom"? She said it would destroy her to lose a child let alone two and she would be terrified and scarred. I told her this, " when you fell in love for the first time it blew your mind, turned you upside down, then it ended and for a while you didn't think you could endure that kind of love and loss again. One day you woke up, you got a tea at Peete's and there he was this man who makes your heart pound and you have everything in common and you knew you would love him forever and it's magic for a little while then it isn't and you are back in the trenches, hating men, going back to the gym sure you will be the kind of woman who never needs a man. Two years later you are in a wedding dress, and all that happened before (in hindsight ) makes perfect sense, you had to endure what you did to get where you are. Some part of you held on to hope and the belief that someday that kind of love would be yours to keep."

For me it's the same. I love being a mom, I still want to be a mom, a baby won't take away the pain, it won't bring back the children I have lost but hope still lives in me and the belief that someday that kind of love will be mine to keep.

Maybe some people think I am too old or my relationship with my husband is too strained or maybe I have had my chance and I should give it up. That is OK, they don't have to live my life, they do not know my heart and I wouldn't want them to. Most people who really know me and love me understand, it may not be what they would choose for themselves because they are not wearing my shoes but they know it is what I need and want most and what I am made out of.

This is the first time in my life I am doing something that is right for me, because I believe it will bring me peace, healing and happiness. It may not be the right thing for my husband or for my oldest daughter (who thinks I am as old as dirt, and a little crazy). It might not be the easiest thing to do and it might be a lot more heartache and hard work but I am sure this is right for me.

It may not happen for me but I will go down with this ship, I won't put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door...

I have this feeling, and I can't explain it that even though things look grim and impossible right now that they are about to change. I don't know how but I feel it, it's strong. I have felt this before and I trust it. My baby (child) will find me, I will leave it up to the universe to decide how that will happen. [don't worry I haven't lost my mind and I am not going to go out stealing babies or purchasing them at the local Walmart from crack heads] All I can do is open my heart up to this, trust and wait. I am breathing deep and standing still, hard to do when you are a stubborn hot-head like me.

I won't make resolutions for next year, instead I am waiting for a miracle.

I have two beautiful daughters in heaven and I think they are looking out for me.

I will continue to chronicle this journey no matter where it takes me, I know I will end up exactly where I am meant to be.

Friday, September 23, 2011



Today would have been your 24th birthday...or is it still? I am not sure how this works. To me you are still 19, I can't imagine you any older. It would have been nice to know you as a college student, then graduate, then working woman. It would have been nice to help you decorate your first apartment, come over for home cooked meals a la Stevie.

Would you have called me late at night to tell me about boyfriends, ask me how to get a pasta sauce stain out of a sweater or just call because you miss my voice and it helps you sleep. Maybe I would call you...yep I would every night and maybe you would ignore me, that would be fine with me.

Instead I am here on this planet in this physical body wondering where the hell you are and if you are somewhere what you are doing in that somewhere, that everywhere.

I imagine you with Claire swimming in a blue, blue, blue ocean, dolphins around you, water warm and the sky pink. I can hear you laughing in my imagination, the water splashing, you with a baby, our little baby.

Oh sweet girl the years are flying by and everything changes. I don't want it to change too much, I am afraid time will try to erase you, I won't let it happen.

I went to the cemetery today, when I got there a little man with skin like chocolate from working in the sun was digging a very, very big hole. I couldn't find your grave and for a moment I thought he dug you up. I got to the hole looked in and it was empty, no crypt, no coffin just that ugly cemetery dirt that doesn't look real. I asked him where you where and in his best spanglish he said, "service at two" and I told him "No, where is my daughter, where is her marker, what did you do with her?" I think I might have looked a little crazy and he lifted a big board he had placed over your marker to see if that was the one I was looking for.

I told him "Yes, yes" and he pulled the board away, swept the dirt and grass off of your marker and looked sad. I felt bad, it was 99 degrees out today and he was trying to dig a grave and have it ready by 2pm. He gave me some space to place the things I brought (big sunflowers, pussy willow a pretty green ribbon and green apples from our tree) . I didn't stay long, I knew he had work to do and I was grateful that he gave me time he did not have. I wished you a happy birthday, blew you a kiss and said, "C'mon Stevie let's go home".

The drive back was quiet, I didn't cry, I just sat in silence remembering the day you were born, thinking about the dreams I had for you, asking you to tell me where you are, to prove to me you are ok so I don't have to worry.

This is a hard time bunny. I am missing you and mourning Claire, it is a lot for a heart to take. I am doing ok, I am strong but you can see the cracks in me now. I want to try to have another baby, I don't understand this need anymore. Dad and Aly think I am asking for pain when what I am asking for is comfort. I ned to hope, I can't lose hope.

I believe Claire is with you where ever you are. I want to believe that you are telling her all about birthdays and all of your favorite ones, how much you loved parties, and cake, and presents. Maybe the two of you will plan a party so she will know what they are like too. Keep her close Stevie, I know she will love you so much and I know you will be a good sister to her.

Oh sweet girl what I would give to kiss your cheeks.

Know how much I love still have all of me.

Happy birthday chumpkin,



Please God let there be a heaven, and let me girls be in the best part of it, where unicorns and fairies live, where angels sing, where cute boys with swinging haircuts sit and have coffee with geeky girls that wear glasses and can kill anyone at scrabble. Let my girls be together and please God Let me be with them again someday.

Thursday, September 1, 2011


As a twig trembles, which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;—
I only know she came and went.

How do I tell this story again, where do I begin...


On my birthday I went for an ultrasound, it was silly, and I was having one in a week but I paid a little extra to get a sneak-peek, to find out if she was really a girl, I couldn't think of any other birthday present that I would love as much. It would be the first time Noah got to see his little sister.

The technician found a problem right away and I could tell she was worried, she didn't want to send me off afraid, with nothing to hold onto, so she told me my little baby was a girl and I left the appointment knowing that everything had changed.

The following Monday my Obstetrician scanned me and asked me to see a perinatologist that same day. It was at this clinic that a doctor finally told me the truth, the sad, sad, news that my little girl was not going to be born. I was given choices, none of them good all of them with the same outcome.

Claire did not have amniotic fluid, she did not develop kidneys, and there was a zero percent chance she would survive outside of my body. My little mermaid was washed ashore, the ocean had gone and all she had was my beating heart keeping her alive.

I got a second opinion and I learned her little heart was failing. She would not live long inside me, there was nothing they could do. I wondered if she was afraid, if she felt pain, if she was suffering. I begged her to go to sleep, to find Stevie, to leave this place where she would never swim. She held on tight, and that night I felt her little kicks.

Two days later on August 25th, my other grandmothers birthday, I was induced and I delivered Claire into my hands. It was a long sad day, I woke up before the sun and as it set she arrived. My labor was 12 hours long, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, was wrong and at one point thought I would die, and I welcomed it.

Then she was there, resting in the nest of my hands, I held her, kissed her, and told her how loved she was, how strong she was, and how sorry I was that I could not bring the ocean back. My tears spilled onto her cheeks as I memorized every detail of her perfect little body.

Her feet were long with graceful toes, the middle one just a little longer than the rest. Her hands so delicate, her little face round with a pouty upper lip and a pixie nose. She was small, mighty, beautiful, and she was my daughter.

(For those of you who could not wrap yourself around the idea that I was carrying a a baby that was not biologically mine let me assure you that biology is small, this little girl was my daughter, she was my child and my connection to her was strong and real, I knew her, I loved her.)

It is unreal, all of it, how can I be here again mourning the loss of a daughter? What kind of universe hands this to a person? What kind of God is so cruel? I spent some time here, thinking of all the reasons why this is unfair but no matter how angry I got nothing changed, I am here with this broken heart again, arms empty.

I then tried to make sense of it all...I told myself that Claire needed a place to grow and feel loved for 18 weeks, that was it, and she chose me, I chose her, 18 weeks was enough but it is all we were ever going to have. Being a mom means a lot of different things and even though I never got to nurse her to sleep or braid her hair I was still her mommy.

I am floating in a place between dream and waking...I am sleep walking through life right now, I have done it before. I will find things to distract me, projects that keep me so busy so I don't have time to cry. This is what I do, I survive.

I want to try again. It disturbs me a little that I can even think about it, that hope still lives in me...Love and pain sometimes they overlap, most times you can't have one without the other and always you must risk one to have the other.

I have learned some important things, they don't comfort me as much as they should but I have learned that birth and death are the same, that love is bigger than loss, that hope is bigger than fear and that nothing can destroy a mothers heart. I won't be crushed, I won't be destroyed, and I will push this boulder up this mountain again and again...because I must.

At night when the sky turns pink I walk around my neighborhood and I talk to my daughters in heaven. I try to access what ever hidden strength is left in me, I try to make plans, I try to believe in God, I try to understand that the universe has a plan for me and all I need to do is be still, just for a moment and wait for direction.

Claire, Claire, Claire...I wanted to be her mommy, I wanted her to sleep next to me, to smell her sweet breath, to hold her hand, to watch her grow. I miss her wiggling inside me, I miss planning, waiting and wondering what she would look like, if she would be born when the moon was full, the sound of her first cry...

I don't know what happens next, I just know that I am here in this moment and there will be a next and a next, where those moments lead is a mystery that offers hope to me even now when everything hurts.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


It is August and Aly will be 26 this month, how did that happen? She doesn't seem to excited about this birthday, she has hit a place where they just aren't as fun as they use to be. When she was younger birthdays were a promise, they brought her closer to the things she wanted to experience, she wanted to be a teenager, wear make-up, learn to drive, be an adult, vote...

Her birthdays now bring her closer to 30 and farther away from her childhood, the place she was once so eager to escape from she now wants to hold onto, it happens to all of us. My heart is breaking for her I know what she is going through, my little Peter-Pan-ess. Time pulls her forward and the things she cherished most are becoming memories that are harder and harder to hold onto, and Stevie isn't here to hold her hand and be her friend.

It is a year of changes and growth.

I am 16 weeks pregnant today, at 46 that is a big change for me, my body, and this family. I am filled with something that feels like faith, magic, love, and wonder. It is so funny, I have had three children you would think this wouldn't be such a big deal but it feels brand new, like it's the first time I ever had a baby, that anyone has ever had a baby. This little wiggle is already a part of our family and feels like it always has been. I believe it has just been waiting for the door to open to come home.

Aly... is getting squishy and maternal, she fights it but I can see and feel her softening. She will miss my 20 week ultrasound (gender) and is bummed. I am going to do something special for her she can still be a part of the day. I may try to call or text her while we are in the exam room so she can still be there. She has class that day, she could skip but it is the beginning of the school year for her and she needs to be there.

Noah...I can't believe how excited this kid is. He is a little boy and I thought he would be a little oblivious to the whole process. I was so wrong. This kid is in love with this baby and he keeps track of what week I am in, how much the baby is growing, what changes have taken place and how many days are left. He can't understand why it takes so long to grow something so small. At first he was sure this was going to be a boy, because that is what he ordered, a little brother, but he has changed his mind and thinks a little sister would be pretty awesome too and he wouldn't have to share his room if it was a girl! He has picked the names out for the baby and they are good names. He is such a sweet and amazing person. He is taking the morning off of school to be at the ultrasound and he will be at the birth with Aly, my sister, and Steve. doing his best to be a good guy but this baby isn't something he imagined for himself. He feels like he is too old, that our relationship is too fragile, that the future is too unpredictable. I get it, I just don't see things the way he does. I have no idea how his role in all of this will play out but I trust the universe to move us all in the direction we all need to go.

I am sure I did the right thing, I can feel it, everything is falling into place inside me. I felt so broken before, I couldn't make sense of anything, and I could not understand how I could truly put myself back together again but I moved in the direction my heart pointed me and here I am, and I am in a peaceful place.

This child does not replace Stevie, it does not take away that pain, and it isn't an escape from loss. I still miss my girl with all that I am, and there is no escape from the loss of a child but this experience is adding another layer to me; I had to learn to be a mother but not lose who I was as a person, I had to learn to be a caregiver but not lose my ability to be a mother, I learned to be an artist but still stay grounded to the life and family I had built, I learned to let Stevie go and still hold onto myself, now I will have a baby and have a new beginning but I will hold onto the child I lost. I can honor the loss of Stevie and the birth of this child in the same breath.

Is Stevie coming home? Does that happen? I am the kind of person who believes it can. I also believe that there could be a child that has been mine all along that has been patiently waiting for it's turn to come home. No matter what this child is loved and I am sure that this is how it was always meant to turn out, I just had to trust the path I was walking, the mountains I was climbing and the destination that seemed so far away and impossible to get to.

I am a blessed person. On the days when my sorrow is deep I forget, all I can feel is what I have lost, and it is so hard to remember what I have had, what still waits for me. Since I was a child I believed in magical things, witches, fairies, God, angels, birthday wishes, star wishes, moon wishes. I lived in worlds I invented, created imaginary places to hide the things that made me afraid, wrapped hope up in shiny paper and kept it in my pockets.

As an adult it is hard to believe in what was once so easy and felt so real. Stevie's death flattened me out, I felt like I was alone on an island, and not a pretty one. The sea took a tiny bit everyday and I knew one day I would be swallowed by it, and it would taste like tears and feel like falling. Then there were days the sun would come out and dry out the shore just a little, the waves would quiet and I could hear birds far away, in my pockets I could feel something shiny...hope.

It has been four years, and my island is my home, my house is on it, my family is here, my friends, my life. The sea is there and sometimes I am pulled to take my little row boat out into it, brave it, face it, swim in it. It can't swallow me now but it will forever be a part of me, it is what my tears are made out of.

This baby is promise, this baby is wrapped in shiny paper and this baby is helping me believe in magical things again.

My oldest baby is a woman now, still my child, still my little girl with the curly hair the gentle heart, and the laugh that melts me. My Stevie lives in my heart, she is a part of my soul and she surrounds me with her love. My little boy is growing up so fast but he is the glue that has kept my heart in one piece, he is love, he is music, he is sweetness.

This is a year of change, growth, and healing...

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Coming home...

I had a dream that we lived in a small house, even smaller than the one we live in now it was just you, me and Aly...just like before, a long time ago when we lived in the forest and the rain kept falling.

I was getting the shower ready for you and I couldn't get the temperature correct, you kept saying it was OK but I knew it wasn't I wanted it to be perfect. It was just a little dream, faded too quickly, but it felt important, any glimpse I get of you warms my heart.

Well my love it seems one of those little embryos may have decided to snuggle in. It has been two years of tears and trying, wondering if I am crazy for not letting go of this, I just had to try, and try again. The funny thing is that this was my last try, I had run out of options and baby money. I accepted that I needed to move on if the universe said no, but it didn't, it just wanted me to travel a little more before I reached my destination.

Tomorrow I will be 8 weeks pregnant, still very early for jumping up and down and celebrating, when you are my age you have to be cautiously optimistic. I heard her heart beating, I felt you close by... it was like magic, and fairies, and I cried.

I need this beginning, I wish you were here to hold my hand, pick out names and shop for cradles and and soft baby clothes.

A part of me that felt broken is starting to heal, I knew it would. I still miss you, I am still sad, and no one can ever take your place but my heart has a place to land, it is a soft place, it feels like hope and birthday cake... only you would understand.

Maybe there is a God...and maybe God is letting you share a little bit of heaven with me so I won't feel so alone here without you.

Maybe you are coming home...

Monday, May 9, 2011

Here we are...

It was a beautiful family gave me flowers (purple petunias for the garden) , Candy ( a hand packed box from See's), and we spent the day wearing pajamas, soaking in the hot tub, eating a super big breakfast with banana pancakes and mango jalapeno sausages. The we went to Berkeley for dinner to Cafe Colucci for some Ethiopian food (yummiest). But this morning I got my real present.

At 11:30 am I had two embryos transferred.

The morning started off nice, a long shower, a bagel at a little place on College, a long walk through a flower filled neighborhood, the houses on Webster always make me smile. I drank the water, took the pills, got the injection and in two minutes it was done.

I then went for a little drive, ended up in Orinda and had a big mango and chicken salad while I sat outside and scribbled in my journal. On my way home I stopped at the cemetery and left a Republic of Cake cupcake for Stevie, a Meyer lemon with rosemary frosting (heavenly).

Home for a nap, made dinner, now I wait.

I feel good about this. Not sure it worked good but at peace with what ever the outcome will be. I had to be in a lot of places to find this place and its good.

There is a Jason Mraz song that is perfect for this moment...

Here we are, here we are, we're still here,
What a beautiful mess this is...
It's like taking a guess when the only answer is yes.
Through timeless words and priceless pictures
We'll fly like birds not of this earth,
and tides they turn and hearts disfigure
but that's no concern when we are wounded together.
and we tore our dresses and stained our shirts
but it's nice today
oh, the wait was so worth it.

The song is called Beautiful mess and I think he wrote if just for me...

I am full, happy, excited, tired and it is time for me to rest, sleep, dream.

Stevie find me tell me you got the cupcake, I love you.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Candy Land...

It is April 18Th and I remember this day, the last day home, the trip to the hospital we made, the long night and morning, letting you go...

I love you Stevie. It will be four years tomorrow. You would be 23, a student at Cornell, we would have sold this house and moved to East, to be close to you, to be a part of your adventure. You would say not to come, to let you grow up and do this on your own but I know you would be happy that I was not far away, we would find a big house not far from the campus that I would spend years fixing up because I love it and hate it and I am good at it. I would do your laundry, Dad would help you with physics and you would be blissed out.

How old are you in heaven? Are you still 19 or do you just not count days because they have no meaning where you are?

God I hope there is a heaven bunny, and I hope there was a big party when you got there and it has been nothing but beauty and discovery for you since you arrived. I hope you have missed us but not too much. I hope you get to sleep as long as you want and eat what ever you like. I hope you have a big fat cruiser bike you ride on the beach. I hope you have found the best pic-nic spots with big redwood trees and soft grass.

No baby for me, I cried. I told myself I would not try again but I am, one last time,everything that could have gone wrong did. I should have taken that as a sign that it was not meant to be but I woke up one morning after the bleeding started and decided that in April I needed to try one more time because it was April and how could I not...

Tomorrow I will go to the cemetery, not sure what flowers to bring but I bought some green apples and little tangerines for you. I won't stay long, if I do I fall apart and I don't want to. I want to visit the body you once lived in that I loved so much and tell you how much I miss you. Then I need to leave before I start rewinding everything.

I watched a movie called "Rabbit Hole" last night, it was hard, I cried, but I needed to see it for some reason. There is a scene where people are sitting in a circle at a support group for grieving parents and they were talking about feelings of loss. There are some people who have been coming to it for years and years...I don't want to be like that, stuck, so sad, and forever identifying with that and nothing else.

I know everyone has their own internal clock, and there is no schedule for grieving but at some point there has to be more than just the grief, right? You have to shower, eat, drive carpool and plant things. There is work to be done still, children to raise, a house to clean, places to see, and a life that needs living. Staying in one place for too long is not an option really.

There is a part int the movie where the mother who has lost her son asks "Does it ever go away?" and her mother tells her "No, it doesn't, you hold onto it because it is all you have left, it 's like a brick in your pocket, and you learn to live with it there. Some days you hardly notice it, then you will dig around looking for something else and there it will be". I can live with the brick, it is not a choice, but I also choose to fill my pockets with so many things that the brick is easy to carry that when I find it or it finds me it is a part of everything.

You are not a brick, the grief is. You are still you, and still my daughter and this love I feel for you never changes.

I wish you could come home, I wish I could visit heaven. I wish my faith was stronger and the God I believed in as a child still belonged to me and would tell me where you are.

Come to me in my dreams tonight, wake me up, let's play Candy Land and tell secrets. I will paint your toenails pink, and you can tell me things that will make me laugh. We will stay up all night being silly, holding hands, and before morning, before the sky turns you can promise me you are not far away...

I love you sweetness,

Monday, February 28, 2011


Its the last day of February. Spring is coming I can smell her, feel her, she is waiting outside the edges of Winter for her turn. I love spring, she holds promise, there are gardens to be planted, weeds to be pulled, leaves pushing through the ground and out of branches. The days get a little longer and the sun is out more and more warming everything back to life, even me.

I love the way spring transforms the back yard, my heart, my state of mind, making me forget the cold of winter, helping me remember every Easter egg hunt we have had here, the year we put in the fish pond, took out the fish pond, put in the hot tub, planted the fig tree, got rid of the old wheel barrel that use to hold daisies and violets...

I can't forget the spring Stevie left and the cherries grew on the tree and everything changed forever but hope didn't die, love survived and here we are, oh here we are.

I belong to her, I am her servant. I am the keeper of her memory, I cherish the things she left behind, I am the caretaker of her grave. I do this because I must because I could not breath if I didn't. She left and I was left behind here, somewhere she waits and watches and I am determined to make her proud, to do this right, to keep my promises. I wait to for a miracle I don't know what it will look like or feel like or how I will know it has happened but it will, I am sure of it.

I adopted four little embryos. I don't know much about them only that they were left behind, the donors could not continue, they had broken hearts. To heal they had to move on. To heal I am taking their place. My heart may be broken too but I have to try, it's what I do.

In a month I will know if these embryos will become babies. If they are meant to be born and if I am meant to give birth to them the universe will set this all into motion, hopefully it already has. Spring is my lucky charm.

This house needs a baby, a beginning, the sound of children laughing, cartoons, and a big plastic wagon on the front lawn. This family needs a child and all that comes with it. Not everyone agrees with me, and I have been told that I should be thinking about filling an empty nest with vacations, quiet afternoons, long lunches with friends and getting to know my husband again.

I am not an empty nest kinda girl, I am not ready nor do I crave hours and hours of quiet and a life that does not include a messy house, Sunday breakfast, and bedtime stories. There will be a time I am sure when I want my life to myself, when I will love not stepping on Lego's or having a bath free of Mr.Potatohead and all of his friends. I am sure that I will someday want to walk on a beach with my husband no smidgets in tow who have to pee...

I still need monsters under the bed, I want to pack a lunches, I want to be late for the dentist, have a calendar full of places we need to be and things I need to remember. I want little feet under covers, good morning kisses, cereal and bubbles. For me this is the best part of life and I have not had enough of it yet.

I am designed to live long, to survive famines, and wars, to heal from mortal wounds and to defy odds. I don't know why. If I am staying I am going to make this life mine by doing what I love most by filling it with family, friends, art, words, good food, and a belief in something bigger than myself. I want to learn about the stars, understand how deep the ocean really is, find things no one else knows about. I want to write a story, learn to sing, travel to the pyramids, toss a penny into the Grand Canyon, and eat dinner in Italy.

I will grow old with our without a broken heart or a house full of kids. Time is what it is and it moves slow when you wish it would pass and too fast when you need it to slow down. It is it's own being and I live inside it, I can't change it but I can be my own being and love and protect what is inside me.

On Thursday I reach for a miracle, and I don't stop reaching. I will go where the universe guides me. I won't be afraid. I have been in the Winter of my life I want to be warm now, I am ready to grow, I am reaching for the sun. Like Spring I am waiting around the edges, waiting for my turn.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


The daffodills are up, the ones I planted for you when they were your favorite. They made me think of you, it is a bittersweet thing, I can see your face in them, your smile, and hear your voice but I also remember that you will never see them again, not like before.

Soon the tulips will be here, then spring...

I am praying that spring will bring a baby. This is the month I try, I have adopted four embryos.

I wish you could come home, that you could come back as a little baby that smells like apple blossoms and has the color of heaven in her eyes. It could happen, miracles happen...

My arms are empty. Noah is a big boy now, off running around, performing in show after show, hanging out with friends, getting crushes on girls. Your sister is a woman, when I was her age the two of you were running aroun the house putting toothpaste in your hair, fairy hunting, and macaroni and cheese eating.

I am lonley for a little hand in mine, bedtime stories and beginnings.

Don't be mad at me for wanting this, needing this. You are my heart, my love and my very best buddy in the world. No one has ever or will ever take your place.

I have been so busy, I just keep working hard, it helps, it keeps me focussed outside instead of inside, it helps me sleep, keeps me breathing deep and hoping.

I love you sweet girl, so much, it never changes, it never goes away, it is a part of me, you are a part of me.

If you can't come home send me a little sister or two that might need a silly mom. Tell them there is chocolate cake for breakfast at our house, that we sleep in a big pile in soft blankets and tell stories until we fall asleep. There are fruit trees and a big trampoline and spaghetti dinners outside when the leaves start to turn and fall. We swear like pirates in the summer on our little boat. Dad and I agree on nothing and we are a miserable comedy but we are a family, a good one, a strong one.

Do you miss us? We miss you.

Come home if you can, the window has been open, and I am opening it up a little more.

I love you bunny,