courage = trust + fear

I’ve been thinking about words this week. I suppose this is because in Poem It Out, we are gathering lots of words to add to our creative toolbox to help us when we face the blank page. And there is nothing quite like a long list of gathered words to inspire some poetry. And then there are the words I hammer into metal, so those words, in the form of soul mantras, are often on my mind.

This week, as I gathered up an "I am Brave" locket to send out into the world, I started thinking about a conversation I had with a friend last month. She asked me to define brave. Because we were texting, I was pushed to get to the point, so I wrote:

Brave = faith + trust
Brave = holding hands with fear

I started tearing up after I pressed "send" because it felt like I had been waiting for those words for a long time, as though I needed permission to admit that I know being brave, standing tall in your courage, means standing side-by-side with fear and trusting anyway. It isn't about leaving fear behind. It is about knowing it is there and still choosing trust.

As I write this, I am sitting on my red couch in the middle of my little home while everyone is still asleep and the house has cooled off just enough to feel comfortable. And as I sit here, I literally feel as though I am sandwiched between “fear” and “trust,” and I'm wearing a t-shirt that says "courage" as I admit to myself that they wlll be house guests for a very long time. 

This week, we have been lowering the doses of Ellie’s medication and tomorrow she will have her last dose (at least for now). This is the medication she has been on three times a day for more than two years. The medication that regulates her heart rhythm. The medication that saved her life. The medication that has really driven the train that is our family’s daily world.

This is really good news.

This means that we are at the point where we think it is very possible that she has outgrown both of her heart rhythm “issues” and won’t need to be on the medication any more. 

The only way we can know this is to take her off of the medication and wait to see what happens.

Twice so far I’ve almost called her cardiologist to say, “I’m not ready.”

But of course, it isn’t about me. It isn’t about how ready I am. It is about a little girl. It is about letting go of knowing. It is about trust.

For several months we've been in a holding pattern with her weight. Wanting her to get bigger to literally grow out of this arrhythmia; speculating she isn’t getting much bigger because the medication affects her appetite. So this is the next step.

And we wait.

And while we wait, she just keeps teaching us as she dances and runs ahead of us and lives a life punctuated with yes.

And I tuck trust and fear into my pocket and take a breath and exhale a forcefield of courage around all of us.

a little helper

ellie jane helps jon make tacos

I have been meaning to do a post about life with Ellie Jane and the tools and books and toys that we are enjoying over here, but after saying, "I have got to tell other moms about this fun pod" yet again in my head this morning, I decided to finally write a post just about this magical red stool meets high chair without a seat meets mama's best helper ever.

It is one of the more expensive toddler items we have, but it has been so so worth it in just the five weeks we have had it.

We use it every day throughout the day. While I make breakfast, Ellie stands in it and nibbles on things. When I had to work on orders while Jon was working late, she played next to me (you might have spotted this before). 

We are at the point where she wants to get up in it. And this is a welcome companion to the always on the move energy she often has. I also really love how it keeps her safe when I need to open the oven or am making something on the stove.

It also helps Ellie see what is going on. She often wants to be held, but this way she can be part of what is going on and see everything I am doing (and my hands can be free). She stands in it at the table as well and we use it instead of a high chair at times because she doesn't always want to be "strapped in." She has such an inquisitive, determined spirit and I love how this little fun pod helps encourage her and support the ways she learns.

Can you tell I kind of love it? I just wanted to share in case you or someone you love might have a little one who could benefit from a helper like this one.

Oh and did you spot Millie in these photos? The fun pod also helps Ellie feed Millie snacks (when I'm not looking). I hear her giggle and turn around and see Mille snacking away while Ellie looks at me with eyes twinkling. Still trying to capture that with the camera.

PS A few other notes: I meant to also say that my mom and I looked at a few options for this type of stool, but because Ellie is so active, we didn't want to get one that she could climb out of. This one has four sides, so we have to lift her up, but she is a wee one still and probably will be for her toddler years because of her heart stuff, so it will be pretty easy to use it for years. It is very sturdy (and HEAVY, I slide it across the floor) and I have no worries at this point of her falling out or climbing out.

right here.

do you see a car? yes! do you see little critter?

Books are a big part of our days over here this month. Goodnight Moon and a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse look and find book have been the main favorites, but a couple of weeks ago, I introduced Beana to Little Critter.

I showed her my favorite Little Critter book (that has moved with me from house to house over the years), Just For You, and talked about how I used to read it over and over again to myself and then to my little brother.

There is something about this story about a little one who wants to make his mama happy but somehow keeps getting distracted by living. My favorite scene is when he is taking a bath and water is everywhere because"there was a storm." Love it. And in the end, all is well as he successfully hugs his mama and heads to bed.

The day after we first read this book, Ellie brought it to me and we looked through it again. Reading mostly consists of her pointing to different things wanting Jon and me to tell her what they are. Then we ask her to find things on the pages. When I asked, "Where is Little Critter?" and she pointed right to him...well...I cried. Just like that. Because sometimes the love of those who came before you (who love you even still) rises up around you until little tears form. 

I told a certain grandmother about Ellie's new love of Little Critter and a box of books arrived from Amazon days later. Just like that.

(I will always buy you books, she would say for as long as I can remember.)

Ellie is reading from Just Me and My Mom in the photo above. I am someone's mom. So so crazy. She doesn't really call me mama yet. When she gleefully calls for Da Da! when she hears the front door open, I try not to let it bother me. Because the truth is, if she had a name for me right now, it would probably be "here."

Where is mama? I ask. And she points to herself in the center of her chest and then touches my chest.

Right here.

I love that. 

reaching for the camera

i practice...

Around here, even though fall is still days away, the end of summer comes when Jon returns to school. This year, I am yearning for a schedule that this transition can bring while being gentle with myself as I realize that having a growing, inquisitive one year old means that a schedule will be hard to uncover most days. And I deeply get that this is part of what being a mama to a one year old is all about. At the same time, I remind myself that our day to day is a bit different from most people I know as her three times a day medication and other needs still rule our world over here. 

This time last year, almost every day I would take Ellie Jane outside for just a few minutes and show her the birds in the trees and the lavender and the maples leaves falling to the ground, and we would watch Millie run around the yard. We were singing "Beauty in the World" out loud at least ten times every day, and my own deeper understanding of the need to seek beauty and joy in the midst of all that life hands you began. I was standing tall inside hope and bravery and fear as we were counting down the days until her open-heart surgery. I remember saying variations of this to her over and over: Your only job is to live. Just be right here and breathe deep and eat and keep being you because there is so much for you to do and see and know. The world is waiting for you.

And today, as I watch her run around the yard finding leaves and little flowers and rocks, I believe that she heard me. I believe that she heard me when she was on the ventilator and I told her that when she wakes up and her heart is healed, she will be able to live big in the world. 

Part of my current practice is letting go of wanting to know what the day will bring. I take a breath and try to notice what I need while being aware of what Ellie Jane seems to need in a given moment. Until this summer, we were encouraged not to take her many places to avoid the possibility of her getting sick. And now that Jon is back to school, I am finding that I need to reprogram my mind in a way with a new understanding of what my days alone with Ellie can look like. Meaning, for months, the only outings she and I would take were to the cardiologist's and pediatrician's offices. I didn't take her to the store or the park or for walks along Puget Sound because we just worried so much about her getting sick. My heart hurts a bit thinking about all that we did not do and all that she has been through (that we have been through).

Last week, as she napped, I was feeling overwhelmed. I sat there on the couch and closed my eyes and found my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Feel the space the breath creates. As I took a few moments to just be still, I reminded myself of all that I already know. I reminded myself that we walked through this time last year and the weeks that followed, so oh my goodness get out of the house girl and walk through these days too. These days that are full of laughter and joyful games and exploring all that awaits. These days that are full of so much more than I even thought they could be. These days that push me to beyond tired and remind me of what is real. These days that I want to look back on and say: We found our way. We napped. We explored. We danced. We laughed. We cried. We made it. We lived big.

So we are starting here: We are walking to the neighborhood coffee shop that is so much closer to home than I realized. Here Ellie Jane can have a strawberry smoothie with whipped cream yes please, and on this walk, she can say hi to people we pass and the birds she sees and the squirrels who run across our path. And I can take my camera to capture the small moments that are just outside our door, so that I will always remember how I chose to find beauty again and again and again.

the kindred project: day 8 (a birthday)

The Kindred Project: 12 Days of Light and Yes is about sharing our stories of light and hope. The moments where we said "yes" to choosing beauty in the midst of it all. The moments where we stood in our own light. The moments where we saw someone else choose hope. The moments where another became our teacher and where we taught ourselves. Read more about the project and share your own stories in this post. During these 12 days, I am sharing a few of the lights along my path that have pushed me and taught me and held me in the midsts of it all. 

*****

2010 :: 2011

As she sleeps down the hall, I think about how this time last year I had lost a sense of time and was deep inside a bravery I never knew I had within me. There was such joy and pain to come in those next few hours, days, weeks.

And there is so much I want to say. I want to tell you about the fear and beauty and laughter. I want to tell you about getting lost and forgotten, then standing tall as a mother in a way that had been within me all along. I want to tell you about the cracking open and the stitching it all up again only to have life leak through. 

Side by side we are healing and laughing and living it all.

May it always be like this, even when she stands farther away on her path and lives her own dreams into reality. May we always see the laughing and the healing and the love.

More stories to come, but right now there are presents to wrap and I need to remind Jon to pick up the cake and the sky is so blue and it is so warm outside and I can hear her calling me. We have some living to do over here.

(Homework: Close your laptop, turn off your phone, and go do some living of your own dear one. You deserve it.)

a beana and mama adventure

eleven months old 

today brings our first plane ride just the two of us
an excited grandpa will be waiting where we land
so much laughter and good things to come
but oh my goodness let the getting there
be easier
than the sleepless nights it has caused 

she teaches me

eleanor jane, 9 1/2 months

each day, she moves me with her inquisitive, gentle ways. the simple joys in learning something new punctuate our days. she laughs and i feel my heart (literally, i feel it) open up more than i ever thought possible yet again. and when we explore the world, she watches, soaking it all up. those big blue eyes take it all in, and i think about how perhaps my role is to invite her to (never, ever) forget all that she already knows.

an evening...

what is real (march 8)

it was a day.

one of those.

one part beauty and one part oh my god how did i get here with a dash of just do it girl.

i changed out of pajamas by 10.

so that felt like perfection.

by 10:15 i had apples+sweet potatoes sweetly kissed (ahem) in various spots of my shirt + purple dress i had put over my yoga pants to feel like i was actually dressed like i might leave the house.

one piece of toast eaten was at some point.

thank god it had peanut butter on it as it ended up needing to last me until jon brought something home around 4:30.

in the midst of that there was an answer from the universe disguised as a (thank you for you) phone call with a friend.

and a nap was taken by someone other than me.

a short nap.

a seriously girl you have got to be kidding me short nap.

and a dog breathed her is that really your breath breath in my face while seeking attention.

i let her kiss me.

i think she was after the apples+sweet potatoes.

somewhere in there i began to dream about going to a bookstore and out to dinner.

but the i think i will be fussies arrived in full swing. 

the maybe i am just gonna go ahead and get two more teeth fussies.

or perhaps it is the i am just not feeling happy fussies.

hopefully it isn't the i feel a cold coming adventure.

so i found myself just holding on.

the to do list as always tapping at the corner of my mind while i sang about rainbows and changed the words to several songs while playing peekaboo.

a lunch/early dinner arrived via jon.

and i found myself saying maybe i could just run over to the bookstore.

after you eat.

just me.

okay was the reply.

a change of clothes.

a decision that three-day-old dirty hair actually starts looking good on the eve of day four.

add boots.

gotta have them boots.

plus the happy yellow purse.

and into the car i went.

alone.

a.l.o.n.e.

i sang loudly as i crossed the bridge with the sun almost setting and the olympic mountains peeking through the clouds.

loudly.

"and i'm gonna drive thru the hills with my hand out the window and sing till i run out of words."*

then wandered and gathered goodness at the bookstore.

so. much. goodness.

including two more notebooks because we all agree i need more of those.

then had the reminder that bad customer service in adorable children's stores always helps me save my money.

(guess she missed the boots.)

and then a call from home.

all was okay in the way it is when someone knows you need a deep breath but has a question.

do you need me to come home?

we are okay the response.

so maybe i will try that wine bar flitted through my mind.

one glass and time with some new to me sharon olds and an at the ready notebook.

and then i looked across the parking lot and said out loud or i could go to a movie.

(right now)

totally alone.

immersed in something other than all that must get done or those who need me for almost two hours.

alone.

i actually felt my heart quicken.

totally alone.

another call.

just text if you need me.

within minutes a moment to myself in the bathroom where i looked in the mirror and laughed because i felt like i was playing hooky for the first time ever.

in my whole life.

the good girl playing hooky.

with a side of popcorn+frozen coke+darkness+a row to myself+silly previews+johnny depp.

on the way home, i turned the dial up even more.

"and i'm gonna drive to the ocean, go skinny dipping, blow kisses to venus and mars."*

yes.

(soon.)

*from "wedding day" by rosie thomas