anniversary

Wind and rain and cold, almost like the day we married!

Want to see more? Now that we are not trying to be private here, here is the link to the amazing photos from the insanely talented and totally lovely Susan Mullen!

What a year it's been. Holy moly.

While there are (many) things I would change if I could, there are some things I would do all over again without hesitation,

like

standing on that bluff that cold day, snow spitting down on us...

bundled under my dress in a turtleneck, long johns and wool socks, and cozied with a big sweater and scarf, dang it was cold

there I was, pregnant with Della,

marrying Doug.

I would do it again in a second.

paper airplanes

I just finished the second pile of paperwork for the house sale process, and I am feeling raw. So I am rewarding myself with you and chocolate chip cookies (gluten free but hey, still chocolate chip).

This makes my head feel swimmy. I hate going through the old papers, remembering how I felt when I bought the place. The fear and optimism.

here I am

fear and optimism.

So, on a happier note, a delightful networking meeting on Friday, heartening, heartwarming, hope-inspiring. No quick fixes, no one trying to save me, just knowing that a connection was made that matters.

Today was cold and windy, I wanted to play outside, in the garden, take a walk, MOVE but the cold kept me inside, and finally this afternoon I actually slept for a few hours.

I cannot tell you that I woke refreshed, that would be a blatant lie. I did not even feel better. But I feel better knowing I slept if that makes any sense.

The wind is still howling

but the pages are printed,

tomorrow they will be signed

and scanned

and sent

and somehow, this one step is just one more I do not have to take again.

I had sort of gotten paralyzed by this project, knowing it was going to suck. But somewhere I realized I could say "I don't know" and that was ok, that I was not going to get extra points finding obscure dates and facts for things that will likely be repeated (water testing for example).

Letting it go a little let me get on with it, and let me finish what I had to for now.

During my lunch meeting yesterday I relearned something important: when it is just me, I am willing to risk more, try more things, make messes, imagine things differently, but when I begin to worry about how I might be perceived, I freeze up, panic that my good will not be good enough. I am at my best when I am just being and am not playing stand-in third party critical observer at the same time. Obvious? Oh yeah, but what was not obvious is that I wear the third party critical observer like a parrot, like an angel, like a devil, like a weird sentient epaulet.

Tonight when I lie in bed trying to sleep, I will imagine the paperwork as kites, as maché, as paper airplanes, as peace cranes.

Ouroboros

Today it rained all day and was not cold, and I can almost watch the snow vanishing.

It was a heavy day, but beautiful, truly. Buds are swelling on nearly every branch and I can only imagine that one warm day it will explode in color. Already the buds are changing how the woods appear, thickening the branches.

Today I went out in the world with Della, twice... I acted "as if" I knew what I was doing, walked with purpose, held her in my arms not in the car seat.

I think it is amazing just how the feeling of not knowing what I'm doing persists. And I guess it makes sense to feel this way since I've never done any of this before. And yet, now I know that if jiggling and dancing does not work, then she is tired or hungry, and I just need to check my memory for which one was longest ago.

I know she likes movement, and things to examine. Now she likes things to hold and rumple. Cape Cod potato chip bags RULE (thisbagisnotatoy I promise she is never unattended).

Today was so many smiles and such intensity as she watched people, touched their hair, looked at the lights on the ceilings.

Remember when I could not imagine *ever* going out? Now I can imagine it, and now I know tricks to how to make it more successful. Even those tricks do not always work, but they do often enough to make me feel armed with potentially helpful information. See me? Doing this?

The past two days Della has rolled over, front to back, I missed it of course.

And today, she bounced and jumped and danced in her doorway bouncy seat! Total glee (for me and for her!) I still remember loving my jolly jumper when I was little. I do not care if it is a true memory or a photo-induced memory, I remember glee.

My best dreams, still, are ones where I can bounce really high.

Anyway, she has stood and swiveled in the bouncy seat before, but today, for whatever reason, she bounced.

I've been thinking a lot about infertility and how it changes us.

How I hope beyond words that I do not always feel somehow broken, somehow less-than, somehow "other".

I want Della to feel strong and capable and am thinking about my feelings and my own behavior and what I want to model for her. I want her to feel strong, not fragile. Whole, not broken.

I also am trying to pay attention to where my energy is going. And with that, trying to see if I can change where I am spending my attention, and what spin I am giving my story.

I've been thinking a lot about how challenges can become obsessive, even those without direct solutions. You know that snake eating its own tail? Ouroboros?

To kick myself out of the unending cycle of memory and regret and the whole roads-not-taken contemplation that can eat your soul with fava beans and a fine chianti...I've been actively reframing.

To wit: I've been thinking a lot about how amazingly grateful I am that I had the job I had when I had it so I could justify doing just that one last IVF (knowing I would pay it off someday, and I still know I will just maybe someday longer in the future) otherwise we would not have Della, which, truly is unimaginable. She is my heart. And, to be honest, I am grateful too, to have this time with her.

We might not all sleep through the night ever again. But you know what? Totally worth it.

other people's gardens

In my "note from the universe" today, there was a sweet message that basically distills down to this: why spend your time wishing for and wanting what other people have when you can discover and tend what you have that is truly yours.

I drove into work today noticing that the snow was, rather suddenly, mostly gone after yesterday's crazy warm weather and a night of warm wind. The horses were out waiting for hay, all wooly from the long winter. Right now everything seems to be shades of brown, but when you take a closer look, all of a sudden you notice the rice paper leaves of the beech trees, or the russet branches in the apple orchard, the buds on the maples are rosy too, and the birch catkins are the palest cream. Willows are downright yellow, and in my garden? A riot of purple crocuses that look like the tiniest iris. And chives! Green fingers pushing up through the bad-mannered neighbor that is the creeping thyme.

So while there is mud and hibernating grass and heaps of fallen branches, sticks, twigs, acorns, oakleaves, and gravel covered stubborn heaps of snow.... there is color too. At 8 tonight the sky was light enough to see the outlines of the trees.

It has been a really horribly tough few weeks, but in between the crushing sadness, I have moments of something that feels like hope, and I want so badly to string those together to fortify my heart.

The house is not on the market yet, but it will be. I am up to my neck in paperwork, and if I never have to do another hardship letter in my whole life, that will not be too soon. I cannot tell you how awful that was. But

it was.

past tense. It is done.

Requests came today for more information, more things to fill out, more things to find.

It will get done, and I know it will not be a forever project.

There's a gift in all of this: losing the house means losing the reason I need to get a JOB, the all caps job that means long hours and bigger pay-- not that I was finding those options anyway with my weird niche expertise, my otherwise generalist nature, and my too-long-at-my-old-company. But now I am free to look at work differently, to look for something I want to do and can do well. Something or things I would enjoy. I am looking into consulting, into writing, into coaching, into...... who knows? Once the house moves on to its next owner, one who will love it for the obscene bargain it will be, I can move on too.

***

Della is 5 months old, laughter, light, babble, DROOL, wiggling arms and legs, pure and total delight. She is smart and strong and funny. She looks at me, into me, beyond me... she grabs and holds and drops things rather randomly. She loves things that rumple and crinkle, loves the taste of banana and oatmeal from my fingertips, she laughs out loud at her dad's funny faces, and her face lights up when she sees him. She is tender one moment, inadvertently maybe, a hand on my cheek, and my heart melts. Then she bites down hard during nursing, iron gums, and pulls back, and I swear and she cries and I feel horrid. She no longer cries when we sneeze, but looks alarmed when we laugh loudly. She talks and talks and talks which I love.

Me, I am under renovation. Half my hair fell out in clumps and is still coming out in wads that are alarming. I cannot tell you how shitty that is. I am having to have faith it will grow back. I am back in my old pants but lord, not my old shape. That's ok though, I figured the pants would never fit again, so it is like having a new pair. I am trying to do yoga each non work day. But it is more for strength than calm these days. Plank while wearing baby in bjorn. Strength under squish. Skin on face is wrecked from stress I bet, and I find I am healing slowly. I am sick again with razor throat then gloopy snot. I think though that this is part of some sort of old-life sloughing. As I move through this, toward whatever is next, I hope that there will be less sleepless obsessing, more time outside, more time breathing, more time creating again (not on the phone with banks please). I look forward to the garden, which is both my garden and someone else's. I will not plant new things here, but I will tend. And I will plant a container I think to put near the door, to leave for the next folks, or to bring with us if I choose, when we go.

As someone so wisely said a few posts back, it is impossible to hold on and let go at the same time, but I find myself trying to and rediscovering over and over that I have to let go.

tribe

I'm blessed people.

And doubly blessed because I know it. I am blessed with friends and family whom I would chose. I have a far flung posse of wonderful supporters, folks who truly send love and wishes for peace in my heart and gently remind me to keep moving toward the things that make me feel the most fulfilled, the least depleted, the happiest, whole-est, most present, most kate.

I have friends, many of whom I have not even met yet all over this country and in the UK, who offer a kind of kindred spirit, soul food, uncomplicated love...

I wanted to write about the importance of finding your tribe, or letting them find you. There are folks who resonate immediately who you know are going to matter, about whom you feel a bit shy when you realize they are looking at you, paying attention, pulling for you... there are folks who come at exactly the right moment with exactly the right message... there are folks who call you out when you're doing self harm in the guise of unconscious habit brought upon by stress, not enough sleep, or anything else that brings old behaviors into current use like a broken down pair of shoes.

Yes, I am struggling right now, but I am being held up and held onto, I am being encouraged and loved, I am being encouraged to be as much of my self as it is safe to be wherever I find myself. And I need to keep moving toward what I know to be true, toward what I know feeds me and brings me joy.

So often, it is not that we don't know what we want, it is just so hard to give ourselves permission to do it. And sometimes, we also have to ask for help.

So

I want to paint more, so am looking for a simple and safe baby backpack-- anyone have an old one that you loved but have outgrown that you'd be willing to sell me or exchange for a painting?

Please keep reminding me of who I am, and that I am in here no matter what it may seem, no matter how high the heap-o-crap gets.

This house thing sucks ass. I mean it. I have been through worse, of course, and this will somehow come and go and I will not be destroyed by this. We will not be homeless. We will move together toward the next thing, and by stepping away from this, I will be able to step toward things that grow my heart and ease my soul, and I am fighting so hard to let myself feel hopeful in the midst of this sad, this disappointment, this bewilderment.

My friends, all of you, my family, all of you, thank you. I am so grateful for all of you. Truly.

home base

How bizarre! this post just evaporated.

So this time, no preamble, just a gift from Laura to me, from me to you:

Monday greetings!

"All that is gold does not glitter,

not all those who wander are lost;

the old that is strong does not wither,

deep roots are not reached by the frost."

(J.R.R. Tolkien)

In other words:

So many of us are less confident on the inside than we might appear

on the outside, so despite what you see, remember...you're not alone.

Just because you're not exactly sure where your headed

doesn't mean you're not on the right path. Faith, trust, and short powerful steps rock!

Tending your mental, emotional, spiritual and physical strength is the best offense...

Because when you do, no matter what life throws at you,

you might wobble, but you will not fall down!

This week, Kate, your Life Leadership challenges are as follows: stay focused on home base (aka, you). If you feel lost, focus on what you do know, and ask for the next right step. It willalways lead you in the right direction, and there will always be another next right step just beyond that one, but you may not be able to see it yet! And always, always choose what will contribute to your inner and outer fortitude, and exercise those things every day, with every choice.

Wishing you focus, trust, strength and resilience this week!

Laura

Laura Neff, CPCC, PCC

www.LifeLeadershipCentral.com

Laura@LifeLeadershipCentral.com
704.237.0782

1400 Oakdale Road, Charlotte, NC 28216, USA

today? snow

Snowy day, with the biggest flakes falling

and rain

and tiny snowflakes

and rain

and snow again

I was up at 3am, until 4:30 trying to shush my busy and not-at-all-productive mind.

Yesterday I felt somehow resigned, today raw. I kept moving and kept feeling like tears were just below the surface, just below like one breath away.

I drove by dublin lake with its fresh layer of snow on the ice, and the wind has already made ripples and the melt patterns underneath were showing through, and it was so incredibly beautiful. And the sky! The north sky was dark and deep and moody like a july evening gathering for a thunderstorm, but all it brought was rain

and snow

and rain

and snow

I'm ok, just flailing a bit. More than a bit. A big, olympic flail.

Realtor wednesday, to talk about a short sale.

Our only real option. I feel like I'm watching myself break all my rules, one by one. It is an interesting exercise in redefinition.

better late than never

remember me? smallish? big smile? reddish? overwhelmed?

Yeah, that would be me.

So-- I've been consumed by trying to find options to my current financial/housing crisis. I've talked with 5-6 banks, 2 financial advisors and a lawyer, two realtors... and

finally

I think I have a direction, however uncomfortable.

I have another meeting next week before deciding but it feels like progress.

In the meantime, remember the ice dam damage? A swarm of folks have been in the house this week, walls back up, mudded and taped, sanded, primed, painted.... dust everywhere (and I do mean everywhere on every little thing)-- almost done but intense in this small space. Yesterday I escaped from it and went to see my mom. They'll be done monday. Praise the gods.

I think it is *ironic* that the house is coming apart, my shit is piled everywhere, it is completely undone, trashed, and being repaired.... no, not ironic, symbolic.

It has been easier to imagine leaving when it was in pieces. And now, as it comes back into some semblance of order, if I keep the personal stuff to a minimum, I may be able to maintain some fantasy that I am just staying here not living here and that may help me disengage a little. I am VERY enmeshed in place, as you can imagine having read me here for any time at all.

Being here, in this house, was a life affirming brave act when I bought it. It was me, saying I was worth having a life that was my own for perhaps the first time in my adult life. I've been playing in the garden for 5 years, planting, moving, creating a wildness of perennials that heap over the sides and draw butterflies and hummingbirds and my joyful heart. I used to come home and pat the side of the house as I entered, thanking it for housing me and loving it That much.

Letting it go is hard. hard hard hard. But it also will allow me to move forward.

Erin, remember the whole trapeze thing?

yeah, watch me, letting go. Maybe not this swing, maybe not even the next one. But it is coming and necessary even if I am not ready.

Della is a wonder- coming up on 5 months old now, can you believe it?

She is bigger every day, a big smile, a big laugh, a wonderful big personality. She delights me to my core. Please universe help me so I can keep present please please please I do not want to miss one second of this, especially when I am so lucky to be *right here*.

Photos soon, I promise.

playing by ear

Della got my ick and this week was a week of snot and chest coughs, a trip to the doc (she's fine) and disrupted sleep. It has also been a week of her talking talking talking (LOVELY), babble that sounds like language, loudly! with lots of tongue. She is adorable beyond words, beyond the snot, and I am completely smitten.

I am still snotty and coughing, and the headaches, oh my. So apparently, this is a full 2 week bug and I now officially invite it to leave, thankyouverymuch. Don't let the door hit you, etc etc.

I've been quite quiet here and on the internet in general lately, and I am so sorry to not be out and about and reading and commenting. I am in the midst of a rather concerted push for alternatives for work stuff and house stuff, and when I am free-ish (like now) I generally spend it frantically researching, calling, writing, and feeling a wide range of things from despair to something more like resignation.

I'm pooped, people.

So--on a happy note creatively speaking, I sold two paintings (thank you loved ones!) and got some cards printed but not yet posted, and some prints made but they arrived oddly sized so I will crop them and post them soon I hope. They are not what I wanted so they'll be discounted. I look forward to more painting in my future, but that will need to wait until the little one is in a backpack. Right now she touches all I touch, amazing. I actually can't wait to paint with her.

We still have snow almost everywhere, and some quite deep. The garden is being uncovered slowly, and seed heads are emerging, and I am imagining that soon there will be greening. We walked today, and it was colder than I expected, and I felt myself holding myself tightly. I am looking forward to walks where my body just moves, and I am unaware of it.

I keep dreaming I am back in school, and I guess I am.

A year ago, I went to an amazing workshop in NYC led by the incomparable Jen Lee, and met a wonderful woman, Helen, who plays piano and teaches among many other fiercely and fabulously creative endeavors. (Please go see her site, she is hosting a getaway in the Moors in August). She and I had a wonderful visit as part of the workshop, and, in talking, it came about that she had been classically trained as a pianist, but did not know how to play by ear. Then she discovered an online class, and indeed DID learn to play by ear, and it freed her to express her own music-- and now she teaches other people to do the same. Well, I cried, actually. I had not known how attached I was to the idea that I could never be musical because I cannot play an instrument, cannot read music, cannot carry a tune, and am non-rhythmic. But, there she was saying it was possible. Knowing it was possible. And I felt my heart crack open against all that I thought that I knew.

Fast forward to now: Here I am, improvising. A life so tightly held, planned to avoid possible losses and other out-of-control-nesses, carefully tended, broken open, knocked askew, not what I expected, house stuff and work stuff, wondrous baby stuff and Doug stuff, my creative self yearning, my reality and pragmatic selves barking orders and waving frantically, and me?

IMPROVISING

so I lay in bed last night and told Doug, when I thought I would learn to play by ear, I guess I just did not expect it to be EVERYTHING.

IF, food issues and other vices. Oh, and snot.

Thanks so much for the comments!

I wonder about IF, body image, and food addiction/issues.... It seems to be more common than not, doesn't it?

I certainly see it in myself, but I also did before IF too- I've always been an emotional eater, a carbmonger, a major binger, (although not a purger). I would binge and then have massive regret. Heck I still do (clearly) once I find an allowed treat. I binge. I scarf. I tazmaniandevil my way through an entire bag. All at once. And want more.

Since I've been off of gluten and dairy, most of the objects of my desire have been relegated to the category of dangerous (I am not missing colitis one bit)-- but I dream of pizza, croissants, bread... um bread... toasted cheese sandwiches, you get the point I am sure.

Alfredo sauce.

But I digress.

The point is, if I *could* binge without immediate fallout I would. Even though I know I shouldn't. I have no doubt it was odd timing, odd luck in some way that colitis forbade me to eat the stuff I love the most. Since this happened only a year into IF treatments, I did not create new associations with IF and food specifically except to be bummed about not being able to eat the things I KNEW would make me feel better, full, whole... whatever.

I used to use hiking as my reward. Not to be virtuous but because it worked for me- truly. Not any workout would do. You'll never catch me doing a crunch. I hate exercise exercise. But I love my hike.

I wonder if I am now making up for my not being able to eat what I want with bizarre shopping weirdness-- trying to make up for something using a different yet no less addictive or damaging tool.

Read this article in a 2009 O magazine that included the following concise insight: if you are trying to acquire More perhaps you are feeling Lessthan. And that pretty much stopped me dead in my tracks. I realized in that moment that I am trying to fill a void (uncertainty, unsettledness) with... what, the magic elixir that will help me create more milk? The optimal teething ring? The book that will answer all of my questions, change my life for the better, and set me on the immediate path for lifelong happiness, sufficient wealth, and the best possible relationship with my amazing family?

Magical thinking takes the form of more than cupcakes.

***

Wild change in topic-- wild turkeys in my yard today, they seem GIANT and I always imagine them as little dinosaurs. Even when I am not feverish.

So this flu thingy that laid me low is truly lousy. I hope all of you avoid it. I am imagining a ball of protective golden light around Della and Doug, hoping hoping that through some miracle, they do not get this. It really sucks.

5

So, some days it is all about the cookies.

Today, the bakery had just 5.

These are my congratulations you made it cookies that I have (apparently) become addicted to as a reward for making it through work.

PathetiKate. I know. What are they? French macaroons. Almondy yumminess. Two bites each, perfection, naughtiness.

Just 5, I say, sadly, just 5.

Does anyone out there do this too? Set up a reward system to help make it through tough or daunting or just irritating times? Do you have any wholesome or embarrassing "rewards" you'd care to share? Feel free to be anonymous on this one. I'm curious if I am the only one.

on carriages and pumpkins

I am at home today, all razor throat and snottiness day 3. Not pretty. I do not fold easily, and damn, I give, it wins.

I was up a lot last night thinking, THINKING thinking thinking.

Thinking about how, let's call it interesting, shall we? how interesting it is to be on the downhill slope from a season of nearly unconscious enoughness.

When I first bought the house, I was making good enough money to make up for whatever misgivings I might have had about my job, career, etc. I was able to do things- fly to see my dad in Denver, fix the car, fill the oil tank. Bigger projects took some planning and foresight, some accumulation, but I could do them. I'd been in big debt before, and had dug out, twice in fact. One was immense stupidity debt that I brought on myself trying valiantly and futilely to buy someone's happiness. Actually, now that I think about it, the second wave was the same as the first (some lessons are learned harder than others). But my point is that I had enough money to not be worried about in-the-moment money. I was also only in debt with the house, which, I hoped, would become my main investment. And that is where my money was going.

OK first, YES I do realize how lucky I was! (and am!)-- at the time, single, childless, good paycheck... in some ways very lucky. In others, not as much.

Enter reality, stage left.

So, in real life, we are now well and truly screwed, immense fertility debt taken on (would not change it) since I did not have time to accumulate in those days of wine (whine, is more like it) and roses (thorns aplenty), and house underwater (literally, wet basement today, and figuratively, as it is now worth less than we owe), and job dwindling....savings finite and small, clock ticking.

I am in the pumpkin phase of this. Don't get me wrong, I like pumpkins, love them actually. But getting back onto the panicked-about-money rollercoaster sucks ass. I'm just sayin'. Truth be told, today there is nothing new, no trigger event, no anniversary, just the ongoing and fast-growing realization that no matter what magical thinking I apply, reality is winning.

So universe, I hear you. I cannot act as if it is not happening. But I also know that panic is not going to help solve the problem.

Erin, your thoughtful link to the quote about the trapeze was right on target- there is a moment between, when letting go, when you have to *trust* that there will be something. But when you are in between, really, all you can be is in between. Scary.

Lovely commenter in Maine, thank you! Thank you for the link to the family center in Portland. Looks like I might just be in the neighborhood this summer and it is great to have such a wonderful recommendation.

All in all, Mr. Pumpkin (this one feels male), I'm just trying to gather my thoughts. This blog is often the place I think of to record and sift and rant. So for now? I declare this episode of miscellaneous katebabble complete.

messages from the universe

So I get a few newsletters and over the past few weeks some messages have been coming, that are also showing up in books I am reading, and things I am hearing both from the inside and outside... I keep hoping to write them here but time does not support that idea, so I decided to try to capture them as they come in.

So today

this one came in my daily my Note from the Universe (edited by me..)

"... boy, Kate, aren't they gonna be shocked when they realize that all along they were, in fact, the person they had always dreamed of becoming?..."

www.TUT.com

Hm, I say. Hm.

110 days

110 days since Della arrived, screaming, certainly, and wildly PRESENT and ACCOUNTED FOR.

I cannot tell you how my heart has been split wide open

and my world has been rocked

and how nearly everything I thought about who I am, what I can handle, what I think or what I know has been questioned (not badly, but deeply)

and how, finally, after years of finding myself deep in the throes of self torture at 4am, now it is nursing time, a time when I stare at the amazing curve of her cheek, or the wash of eyelashes that seem to grow longer as I watch.

4am and I watch the sky for softness and imagine it might be snowing, or see pin prick stars, or the brightest sliver of moon.

I cannot tell you what this year (now reviewed thanks to taxes, good grief) has meant for me, and how as I look ahead I feel a pull between panic (outright, abject, immediate) and some sort of longer term concern, standing on a melting ice floe, wondering what will come next.

Doug took a job that will take him/us to Maine this summer. This is an opportunity I might take advantage of to leave my current job even though it means financial hardship, (it is eventual anyway, and may be their choice come June no matter what I might hope for otherwise....) a clean break and a way for us all to stay together. I have done long distance. I have done split time. I have done two houses. I have done it and have no need to do it again, not right now, not with Della who changes every minute.

The house will go on the market this spring, after repairs are complete and the new roof is on. We will load our clutter into bags and boxes, and clean, and try to exit stage left with as much dignity and soul intact as possible. I know it is the right thing, but it is not the easy thing. This would have happened either way.

The baby is having a fussy day, an impatient day, and me, I am done with gathering papers for the tax guy

I did my best, it is not *complete* but it is as complete as I can make it. It is a big, fat envelope, and chronicles our last IVF, ultrasound by ultrasound. And even holding the amazing squirming beautiful stunning outcome in my arms, I still cannot believe it.

So, lots happening here, quick changes that came up and needed decisions, and some things put off that were needing attention, and here we are, adventuring. And me? Breathing into a bag.

I wanted to write about universal messages, about jumping off, about how a string of book reading and random emails came all saying the same thing-- about trusting, about jumping, about beginning.

shhhh

not wanting to jinx anything here but

even with the crappiest week of sleep in months (up too late, up too early)

and with a rather high stress level

the past 3 days with Della have been more harmonious.

Harmonious=much much less crying. I've made some changes: stopped my prenatal vitamin; and now I immediately change what I am doing at the first sign of fussing-- keep trying different things until no fussing. What this means is that I am in near constant motion while she is awake (bouncing, dancing, walking), I bounce her to sleep (no kidding, first yawn, I am ON THE BALL), I rock her while she is sleeping unless it was a nurse-to-sleep... and, well, it's all working (praise god, goddess, all-that-is), at least, in this moment. And it is wonderful wonderful wonderful.

There is no sitting with the baby stuff of movies and the coffee shop fantasy. But... I get it. This is what it is.

Today we walked twice, taking advantage of this amazing weather, nearly 60 degrees. Sunshine on my face, warm wind, cold snow, but the smell of spring, and the bluest sky, and the wind roaring in the trees.

It was a melt day.

Only one new leak found. Yesterday was insurance adjuster visit day, goodness gracious that man was here for 3 hours. But.... and... there's a check and we can fix the holes once the threat of new leaks is over for the season.

So, about work....

I can say this: wednesday mornings, I put on my Just Be True Jen Lee t-shirt, and remind myself to be true to my own self. It is about changing focus and heart-attention as quickly as I can from work out there (hands waving) to work in here (hand on heart).

My sister has encouraged me to open an etsy store with my 5 (count'em!) paintings, so I am in the middle of setting that up.

And, really, with this particular life structure, one of the other reasons for my increased peace with Della, I think, comes from not trying to do anything else. I don't read many blogs very often right now, and rarely comment (SO SORRY!)-- I just don't have the time I want to put in that direction. Right now is a weird survival mode, and with that comes minimal multi tasking.

But on weekends I sneak a little more time-- like this, to post. Or last weekend to go see my writing group (with Della so it was not really sneaking-- and she cried the whole hour ride back good lord). And tomorrow, maybe to go on some errands alone. Or maybe to etsy or update my leadership blog or.... but

this is about ORs these days, not ANDs, and I am realizing how letting go of trying to do too many things (when more than one is too many), I suddenly found a little peace.

Della is laughing, and rolled onto her side over and over and over for 20 minutes on wednesday. And these moments I would not want to miss for Anything.

Della photos

Images from yesterday. Oh my goodness.

Della's cool and unusual asian-themed outfit is a gift from a beloved cousin. She looks downright smashing in it, don't you think?

And here I am, with my little one perched atop an exersize ball. We spend a lot of time in ergonomically questionable (if not downright nightmarish) positions and postures (aka me, bending forward like a "C"). I try to make up for it by stretching, often.

Della is an outfacing baby with me, in-facing with sweet Tammy, a crook of the arm baby with Doug... At 3 months she now loves the bjorn (I love that she loves it), is enjoying minutes at a time in her new bouncy seat (a cheapo that I really like-- my bouncy seat of choice when I was a little one was a jolly jumper), she loves practicing standing, being carried by anyone willing to dance and bounce (hard please), she smiles more and more and more, a delightful lopsided grin with dimples, talks (a lot) and giggles (a little), and still has fucking colicky times that I hate beyond measure. Last night, several hours of unhappiness followed by an hour of blood curdling demon baby screams and a big, big sleep. Then sometime near morning, a wonderful cuddle with me, she turned to tuck her head up under my chin and I barely dared to breathe since I did not want to accidentally dispel the magic. She is feisty and smart, curious, impatient, easily frustrated,wiggly, charming, and insanely cute. She has a glint in her gray eyes that hints strongly of a future of mischievousness. We are doomed.

44

Last year I was one day post-transfer, praying to the last chance fertility gods and not quite daring to hope.

In the past year, I have gotten and stayed pregnant with a miraculous and wonderful baby girl, gotten (and stayed) married to the most amazing man on the most beautiful bluff, lost a big part of my job and, in that instant, a huge chunk of stability and identity, spent a summer mired in stressed out job uncertainty and a parade of one crazy terrifying pregnancy complication after another. I worried about selling the house in a market filled with auction houses and we realized we had to wait if at all possible.

Summer turned to fall and I (finally) gave birth to Della over the course of a few days, with first snow flying and birch trees outside the window that I did not see until it was over. Breastfeeding was a nightmare at first, delayed milk, trauma of a hungry baby and a body that was in shock from surgery, compounded with badly timed bad advice. By the time it was working I felt broken.

I spent two months at home with Della and Doug, using my vacation time, learning how to be This kate, this one who is in a constant state of not knowing.

At the turn of the new year, I lost half of my job again, and realized This kate, this one, this one wants more.

if I am trading time with Della for it, work needs to provide more. At least, I sure want it to. We began to think about putting the house on the market in the spring, realizing the likelihood of a short sale, since my income no longer covers the mortgage.

Then water came in the walls and the ceiling in 4 out of 5 rooms, pieces and parts have been ripped down, and now,

we are in a state of in-between-ness. Rebuilding waiting until after ice season so we only have to do this once.

And today, after one of the most amazing and difficult and transformative years of my life where just about everything I knew changed, today, I turn 44.

one year ago today

One year ago today, Della began in a petrie dish in Waltham Massachusetts.

4 eggs retrieved (oh, how I had hoped for more...)

2 fertilized

1 turned into beautiful, miraculous Della.

Here's to bucking the odds.

Dear belly: a love letter (of sorts)

Dear Belly,

I am sorry it has been so long since I have said nice things to you.

Please know, that even at our worst, even when we were fighting all the time, I would not change any choice I made to get us here.

But that does not mean it has not been hard.

Very hard.

It has been 11 weeks since Della came, and at first, I thought I would hate you forever.

You were still big and full and not very doughy, just 8 months or more pregnant looking even though the baby was out and beautiful and in our arms.

The first three weeks were the hardest, since you stayed late term maternity-huge without budging. I wore my maternity pants with no alternatives, and avoided my profile. I could not see my feet, and had to lift you out of the way to catch a glimpse of my new scar to check for healing.

Then, miraculously, you began to recede. I felt impatient, kept stepping on the scale even though my weight was nearly down to pre-pregnancy. Within a few more weeks, my maternity pants were beginning to be big. By week 5, I was hiking them up, but no other pants, not even my fat pants fit. My stretchy pants were too tight too. Awkward inbetween-ness, I just wanted to have you be gone. I would sit and grab you in my hands like bread dough (you'd gotten softer and softer), and feel my own revulsion. Gosh, what a waste of energy better spent nearly any other way.

At 6 weeks I looked the same as I did at around 5 or 6 months.

At 7 weeks I bought pants that fit me as I was, not as I wanted to be.

Now, at week 11, I fit normal pants, one size up from before. You slob over the top a little, and my profile is not at all what I would want, with belly sticking out farther than boobs. But, you have done this amazing thing. You were beyond big with Della on the inside- mammoth in fact. Laughably large. And now, you are down to a protruding doughy jiggle that I am aware of but probably no one else in the world would be when seeing me either again or for the first time. You have done more than I can ask for, at nearly 44 and remarkably inelastic, you have made an incredible journey from way out there to back to the neighborhood again.

Thank you Belly, thank you for not staying as big as you were, and for coming down to the size you are now without effort on my part except, perhaps, the nearly impossibly inhuman effort of patience (I am not known for self patience, I confess)...

If this is what I look like, then, this is what I look like.

Most of the time, I think I can be ok with this.

Love, mostly, and except for sometimes,

Kate

Fairy dust

Snow on snow on ice on snow. The woods are full and branches heavy. There are frozen drops on the tips of all of the needles on the hemlock branches, and icicles as long as my arm hanging from all of the eaves. I am not sure there is much more beautiful than snow blown free with sunlight streaming in behind it, sparkling fairy dust.

But I am pretty much hating the new roof leaks, the bulging buckled paint, the orange edged stain that is creeping up and across the ceiling, and the feeling that the falling apart is outpacing our ability to keep it together.

It is the weather, I know. The confluence of snow and ice and melt and weight and the odd rules that water follows as it finds its way in. I spent today trying to focus on what is working, being warm and safe, being in the loving presence of my little one, being surrounded by such beauty.

The weekend whooshed by, and suddenly it is sunday night. I am facing monday with a knotted belly and a desire to stay up all night just to stretch the time between now and then. It feels a little night-before-exam-ish. I am looking forward to transforming this feeling into something else, something better, something life affirming, neutral even.

I have two meetings this week and hope to have another next week-- and two more to schedule. Babycare is hard to coordinate since we are not flush with options, but it is possible and I have to remember that and keep moving forward.

I keep having IDEAS and then, soon after, often soon upon sharing it, REASONS IT WILL NOT WORK come flooding in. Yes, I am guilty, I am the source of many of these self imposed smackdowns, but in all fairness, other folks are coming up with what seems to be effortless reasons why things won't work either. The economy is high on the list, as is the usual rule that organizations in trouble do not look outside for guidance or solutions. But, I will keep thinking. I have a new IDEA and am letting it marinate a bit. I'm hopeful that one of these will at least be the beginning, the priming of the pump, the thing that helps me move forward.

For now, hoping for time to slow.

Hoping this unbelievable cold stays outside and out of the pipes.

Hoping that a little epiphany will visit, perhaps not as a Shazam, but a slow unfolding. I sure would welcome either.

some baby pictures and reflections

A year ago (how is this possible?), I was beginning the last-chance-no-really-this-time-I-mean-it IVF cycle that ended with Della. I drove the route to Waltham on thursday, bringing a friend to a Dr down that way... I waved as I passed the clinic, simply amazed at what a difference a year makes.

This year I find myself mired in gutwrenching workstress and transitions, when all I want is to just simply revel in this beautiful baby and this truly miraculous turn of events. I don't want to be struggling with anything, you know? It is just very hard to let go of such a big (enormous) piece of my life and source of identity.

Every chance I get, I take a deep breath, re-center, refocus, gather myself, look at this amazing person and KNOW where my priorities are. NO matter what else is happening right now, coming apart or in the midst of the messy act of creation, this is exactly where I want to be.

I might continue to be a bit sporadic here while some of my bedrock comes apart and I allow myself at last to truly create a life that supports my heartwork, so I wanted to leave you with some images to tide you over for a bit.

Yes, she really is this cute.

My new blog

Hi folks, just in case it is of interest to your non IF lives, here's a link to my new blog. Please pass it on it if it feels pertinent. I hope to explore how leaders can be more effective with a very common sense approach. Bite size nuggets only for busy executives... no longwinded posts.

Intuitive Leadership: Talent retention and team optimization in the chan...: "As the economy beings to turn around, companies may find that many of their high quality employees will be looking for other opportunities...."

dragon slaying

So I got this new software: Dragon dictate (for mac, it is dragon naturally speaking for the PC)- and it rocks. Truly. I cannot say enough good about it unless it were free. I've had one real session using it (training then playing) and was totally impressed. I promise to do a post using it soon so you can see how well it does with my babble.

But here's the story...I was playing with it after the initial training, as I mentioned, and the baby started crying. The super sensitive microphone on the headset (included, huzzah!) picked up her crying from all the way in the other room (granted, the place is small, ceilings are high, and doors are few).. and the sw started writing and and and every time she cried.

Totally cute.

On a sort of separate note, I've been thinking a little more about what it means to be a mom to a fussy baby, especially after spending time with Sprogblogger and her lovely Henry. I think we all just do what we need to, you know? This is my normal. Della is her own self, and emerged that way. And since I have no prior experience, this is it for me, this is what parenting is. I watch an easier baby like Henry with fascination, since he is more budda-like than my little one. Della has a 20 minute attention span when all is well, cries often when frustrated or bored or over stimulated... we have the shitty belly issues (literally and figuratively), but this just IS.

I am thinking of Sarah of Dreams and False Alarms, her two little tiny babies. Her time in NICU, that is what parenting is for her.

I am thinking about all of us with all of our realities, isn't this always true?

My mom said that having two babies (two years apart) was not much of a leg up either since my sister and I were so different. And I imagine that was true.

This week I thanked her for faking it-- for acting as if she knew what she was doing-- I told her I never knew until now that she was making it up every moment.

Della is asleep (!) and I need to get ready for bed.

But you know? this whole life thing, aren't we are just all making it up as best we can as we go along?

Launch party!

My dear friend Kristin Noelle has a new website launching today! Here's her blurb:

The site is titled Trust Tending, and has the tagline, "Conversations, reflections, and art to nourish Life beyond fear." A sketch will accompany each post, and all of the content will explore the concept and nature of trust, and the power that trust has to help us live into the Lives we most want to live. Moving through blocks, making peace with our bodies and emotions, and pursuing dreams will all be topics that I orbit around. The address is www.kristinnoelle.com

So please go there and support her, she is wonderful, you'll love her, I promise. And you may just find that you'll love yourself just a little bit more too. If one of your resolutions for the new year was to be a little more gentle with yourself, a little more supportive, then please stop by. If you're feeling brave, let her know you came from here!

Happy New Year!

Happy new year!

I'm glad you liked the last post's poem. I LOVE it and need to remember to go back to it again and again as my courage flags.

And thank you all for the advice on pumping and going back to work. You really helped with strategy and I feel like I can do it. I will pump one extra each non work day and will have plenty to top up the bottles for the days I am at work. I keep feeling like I need to have enough frozen for the apocalypse, but perhaps I should stop thinking like that! (no kidding katekate).

On new year's day I celebrated with a hike up my hill with Miss Della-- not all the way up the hill but close. I followed moose tracks up the trail, slipping and sliding (me), so it was important to go slowly and pay close attention to where I put each foot. Pine needles and tiny pieces of leaves and bark and other tree parts peppered the snow. The moose tracks went all the way down to dirt in many places, the thaw of the day widening the hoof prints to enormous proportions.

My heart was pounding, I was sweaty all the way through all of my clothes, and it felt GREAT.

I stopped when I realized that I was pushing on as a matter of pride,legs heavy, and a very special baby strapped to my body. Pushing onward was silly, I was done. So I stopped for a while, looking out through the trees at the mountains on the far side of the valley, enjoying the soft light (ohhh my) and the peace of being in the woods with nothing but the sound of my own breath, my own heart.

Today I met up with our lovely sprogblogger, got to gawk at her amazingly peaceful bountifully cheeked Henry (gorgeous baby) and just kick back and be my own self in the midst of her amazing library/barn. Honestly, what a great day. Della was fussy as she often is, and had a hard time nursing, so I danced around the room, checked out book titles, and jiggled myself into near oblivion. Then, a major blowout diaper (good lord) and all was better. (Thanks for the handmeovers!)

We're home now with a peaceful and probably overstimulated Della, and I, for one, cannot wait to go back again. Thank you SB! We had a wonderful time!

How fun to have her in the neighborhood. How lucky am I?

Della is 2 months old today, how is that possible? Eyelashes and beautiful smile, hands that reach for toys, and a very busy forehead as she takes it all in with wide gray eyes. I am so honored to be part of this, to be able to watch, to jiggle, to soothe when I can, to witness, and, when possible, to facilitate. She is truly miraculous.

2 months. Time has simply been woooshing by at an insane rate.

I go back to work on monday, down to two days a week now in my ever-shrinking job (better than zero which I feared), and I will simply do the best I can both there (as I always do and always will) AND I will do the best I can with my own future as I create it and as it unfolds. I want so much to create something GREAT and affirming. I'm working on some ideas and hope that they start to coalesce into something coherent. Instead of waiting, I am going to take some action and see what happens. I can always change course if I need to. I want so much to do something I am very good at and enjoy. So...

Tomorrow my mom comes for a few hours, and while she is here-- I will set up my new/old ebay computer in a more comfortable place, put some software on there, and begin.

I wish us all the bravery we need to move forward in the direction of filling our lives with things/experiences/people that we love. Even a small step is a step in the right direction. I think I'll go read that poem again. I could use it right now!