Response to the Recent Violence

We are our brother's keepers. We are not islands to ourselves. We, human beings, of all colors, creeds, orientations and such are connected as one species. We share hopes, dreams, goals, determination and a need to be better than the generation before us.

We are not equal though. We are not all on a level playing field. And while we can give endless compassion and love, we can also fall to seemingly bottomless depths of hatred and cruelty. But we are one. We feel, think, cry, laugh, and bleed the same.

We are one. And we are hurting.

Right now, we are shouting. We are fighting. We are lashing out and finding blame. We are looking to hurt as we have been hurt. But we instead need to be silent. We need to stop. We need to breathe. We need to listen.

We are all hurting. We are all scared. We are all wanting safety, security, and peace. We all want to live without fear. But to move closer to that reality, we all need to listen. We need to understand and realize that we are more alike than different. We are one.

We can find solutions. We can create change. We can make this country, this world what we want it to be if we listen. If we stop seeing different, other, not me, wrong, sin, against this or that. We need to stop. Listen. Hear each other.

If you want to throw something, throw away labels. If you want to burn something, burn down the walls that divide us. If you want to destroy something, destroy the prejudices and quick judgements that pop up in your minds when you see someone not you. Unity. My brothers. My sisters. We are one.

Down Day

I'm just tired.

These words fall from my lips so often that they can be called my negative mantra. There are days that I am physically tired. Lack of sleep and pushing myself to much to do this thing or that.

But most days when I utter those words, it is because my emotional and mental state is to the breaking point. Perhaps you've heard the new catch phrase of "I'm so odd, because I can't even." That's me so many more days than not.

I have stress points that start to ache. I feel blue and down. It's clearly a depressive state. And frustrations. So many frustrations.

Some days I deal with it better than most. But the hard days are when the troubles seem to pile up and there's no clear path out. Those days I stare out the window. Those days I feel tired the most.

When I was younger and with a lot less responsibilities, I joked about running away on such days. But that's no longer an interest. It just seems like too much of a hassle. How funny is that? Running away seems like a hassle.

I'd rather just be home, watching my kid play and snuggling with the dog and the husband. That's what I find comforting now. My small universe of three beings.

They are the ones that get me through the days when "I'm tired."

Writings

At this moment, I'm being thoughtful and full of memories.

Last night I rediscovered a treasure trove of writings spanning from my high school days through college and ending perhaps six or seven years ago.

I feel like it was all done by another person in another lifetime.

It's strange looking back at the person you used to be and seeing the things that consumed you not long ago.

In a week, I'll celebrate my third wedding anniversary. My son just turned one. Our dog will also be turning three. And we've been in our house two years now. This has been my life. This is my world. It revolves around this new family unit we are building. And while there can be room for writings and words, I find little time for it all.

I don't write much anymore, and at times like now, I miss it. Most of my thoughts no longer reach the page, left hanging somewhere in the depths of my subconscious mind with a longing to be shared. I have so many, "write that down" moments, but when I grab a journal to do so I get distracted with something else and the page remains bare.

Seemingly random thoughts all connected back if I have the chance to explain the connection.

I was told that a writer should always have a notebook handy, so for years I did just that. In my cleaning last night, I found half a dozen spiral notebooks full of ideas, short stories, recollections of dreams, plans for the future and bits of poetry.

I didn't take the time to reread any of it, knowing that if I started I would be sitting in the same spot hours later still flipping through pages and plotting out how I should finish this long abandoned idea or contemplating how to write a hundred news ones.

Instead, I found an empty shelf and stored the books away, thinking as I did about what my son might think one day when he came across the words I'd written. I wondered if he might give the pages a few extra seconds, or instead toss them aside in a pile "to be stored" or perhaps even in one "to be trashed."

I suppose that's how life goes though. We struggle every day to find value and meaning and to be something lasting. Back all those years ago, I found those pages as a source of release. Each one fulfilled my need to get all that was bottled up inside, in my head, out into the world in some form. I shared some, and I kept most back from eyes other than mine. But I put it down. I captured a time frame in my life. A time I have to search to remember was me.

I know I am that girl still. I remember her dreams and longings. I remember well her fear of being alone. It's still there. Just different.

Perhaps I'll pick up a pen again. Maybe I'll continue words here.

Maybe.

Savannah and the holidays

Sweet, darling, adorable, pain in the neck puppy Savannah is going to celebrate her second Christmas if she makes it that long. 

Savannah's first Christmas last year.
We had a small tree up on a table,
which kept it out of her reach.

G and I love Savannah so very much, and she is very lucky that we do. Don't get me wrong, she really isn't a bad dog when compared to say all those bad dog movies. She's just really curious, loves to chew, and doesn't know boundaries very well. We're working on all these things though, so it's a process and she's made improvements since day one.

She can sit, knows when to come when she is called, has been trained to go to her crate and rarely has accidents in the house anymore. Considering that she wasn't house trained and barely knew her name when we got her from the Humane Society, we count these as wins. 

Savannah at a little over one year,
and a good twenty pounds heavier
than last Christmas.

However, she still has her moments that make us want to pull our hair out. For instance, she loves books. Well, she loves to chew the covers and pages off the book I'm trying to read. G found her curled up around one of my paperbacks chewing away the other day. He scolded her and apologized to me for leaving the door to the room open that allowed her access to the book. I just shrugged, happy that it was my book and not a borrowed one and a $4 paperback that was easily replaced with a quick Amazon search.  

But her wanting to chew things not her toys does concern me now that the holidays are here, mainly because we want a big tree this year for Christmas and I don't want her to destroy it. Did I mention Savannah loves to chew sticks? Sigh. 

We're breaking her in semi-slowly. This morning I brought out a stocking to hang above our fireplace. It's one for her that has a bag of dog treats and a toy in it. She's been curious, sniffing around at it and bumping it with her nose. We've told her to leave it and she's been good about walking away. I'm hopeful but not yet optimistic that the tree will survive. Maybe the size will intimidate her. Maybe she will survive to see the New Year. We'll see.

Like to Move It Move It

I recently hit the 23 week mark with my pregnancy and all leading up to the second trimester I waited to feel the baby move. Since learning I was pregnant, I've been on alert for any subtle change, any strange or unfamiliar feeling.

The foot that's lately been kicking me.

The thing about being pregnant is that you get stories from people all the time once they learn you are expecting. There are lots of books, magazines, Internet articles - all wealths of knowledge and input on what you should and shouldn't be feeling.  The problem with all of this is that if you've never felt something before then how do you truly know what you are feeling?

I've felt flutters, a quickening feeling, twinges, sharp bursts of not really pain but not comfortable things - and then, just yesterday, two undeniable kicks to the left side of my abdomen. Those happened early in the morning and made me smile. All the other little movements like the things I call drops, which I can best describe as a sensation similar to how your stomach feels when you come down a roller coaster, that sort of quick drop feeling or the twinges and tingles and such - whatever those are can be dismissed. But two quick kicks, that's a movement for real.

Regardless of how much of what I'm feeling is really my baby moving around or me wishing it to be so, I'm also discovering that this experience with Jack in my unique one. Yes, other mothers have felt similar movements, but only I have felt the way Jack moves around. And so only I can describe it. This is my experience alone. Wow. That's strangely a bittersweet realization. There's so much of this I want to share with G, with everyone who is going to love Jack. But with this, the best I can do is try to find the words to explain the feelings. And even then I know I'll fall short.

It's the moments like this, when I'm sitting in a crowded room or all alone, and then I feel him move. That little flutter, quick drop, or the kicks that make me realize how special all of this is. It's still overwhelming in the best possible way.

A Face to a Name

Good news - the pregnancy is proceeding as should. Bad news, or rather a downside to this is there's no need for the more than average, insurance accepted scans.

All this means that for most visits to my doctor we do the usual check-up of weight, height, and so forth and then listen to the baby's heartbeat through a fetal monitor. 

First trimester Baby Knight

Our first image of Jack was way back in August when we didn't even know more than there was a small heartbeat and a life forming. By the time the second trimester rolled around, we at least knew that he was a boy but still had no idea what he looked like as he developed. 

We saw Jack on a Tuesday in the afternoon. It was exciting to turn the corner into the tech room instead of going straight down the hall to the vitals room. Jokingly I asked G if he had a chair handy as I climbed on the exam table. Our tech room has a big monitor right across from the table for an easy view. G and I settled in and then there was the semi-cool jelly applied on my abdomen. G started out holding my hand, but as soon as the first images of our baby popped up on the screen he was on his feet and standing right below the monitor. 

And the first thing we saw - well, let's just say our baby quickly removed any doubt that he was indeed a boy. The image made us laugh and set the course of the exam off on a good note. The anatomy scan is just as it says - a chance for the tech to look over the baby and take measurements and such to make sure the baby is developing as should. 

Jack's tiny little face

As the scan proceeded, G and I watched in awe as a baby first seemed content to stay in one spot and he was probed over. We saw his heart beating and then the individual chambers of it. We watched the values opening and closing. It was fascinating. There in front of us was not only the outward image of our baby, but the insides of him. His little bones and developing brain. So amazing and surreal. 

After a few moments of being poked about, Jack did in fact get restless and started moving around. He started to roll and shift and draw up his legs and hands. We saw a perfect image of his little foot that looked just like those ink prints you see made of newborns' feet. 

The best part of the day was one of the last photos our tech captured of Jack. He rolled around for a bit but then started to settle back down. As he did, he drew up his hand toward his face. It's the sweetest image and a little glimpse of his forming personality. I look forward to seeing how much of those movements continue on after he is born. 

A little about morning sickness….

Being a first time mom, there are lots of things I don't know about being pregnant. I have wonderful friends who give me advice and talk me through the milestones of pregnancy, but it's always different when you go through the experience for yourself.

The first trimester wasn't as rough for me as I knew others have experienced. I've had relatives who were bedridden and unable to keep anything down for the longest times when they were pregnant. Thankfully, that was not something I dealt with on a daily basis. I had about a two week period of intense nausea at the beginning. I'd wake up and first thing be hit by a wave of "oh no this is not going to be good" and run to the bathroom or grab a nearby receptacle. I learned if I could get through the morning, usually by nibbling on crackers or fruit throughout the morning, I was usually fine by noon or so. 

Then one morning it wasn't so bad. Then no nausea. Just gone. And I thought, oh this is good. But I was wrong. From that point on I'd get sick at nothing. G loves to tell about how I simply walked down the hall going from one room to the next and then I was in the bathroom. One second perfectly fine, the next sick. It amazed him how quickly and out-of-nowhere it came on. Eventually those feelings faded, too. But the lingering fear that I'd be caught out unexpected did leave me with my guard up for a while. 

The one thing I've learned is that there is no clear line between trimesters. Just because a calendar says you have left one stage behind to enter another does not necessarily mean that your body is caught up with the change.

Second trimester came along and I'd hear things like "you should be feeling better now." and "it will be easier for a while." Mostly when I heard that I was in the thick of a new round of what I considered morning sickness that was actually hitting in the morning and making me dread waking up. Turns out it was just the wonders of slow digestion and acid reflux. 

Here's the second thing you learn about being pregnant - glossy truths. Basically there's the marketed image of pregnancy, which is all about the joys of becoming a mom. The smiling belly caressing women in magazines and on television commercials that sell you on how wonderful life is going to be for the next nine months. And the way your friends who are moms will gently pat you on the hand and smile and say, "it'll get better" to comfort you. Reality check - find the friends who will smile and pat but it's because they are breaking you into a harsh new reality. 

Pregnancy is hard. It's tiring, like bone tiring, and painful and gross and your body is going to do loads of things you never imagined possible. There will be smells and sounds and tastes that you are never going to want to experience again but sadly become common place. I tell you this not to be a downer or  complain about my own experience, but to just talk for a moment about the reality of it all. Because after figuring out the torture of acid reflux and how to handle it, after knowing that my body is going to start to ache and stretch and pull and know how to deal with it, and after deciding that somethings are just going to happen and so have supplies handy - pregnancy does have those amazing moments almost right out of a TV ad. 

At 22 weeks I'm told I should begin to feel Jackson moving. I have no idea what this means other than all that I've read and been described. I've heard it's like a flutter, like popcorn popping, like this or that. I feel a tightness now and again on my left side more than my right. I think that's maybe him stretching. I feel a sensation I describe as a drop, a bit like when you are on a roller coaster or a plane and you descend quickly. The feeling is not as extreme as that, but similar in the quickness of it. I've come to believe that is him moving around. 

All of these new sensations - the morning sickness, the highs and lows, the anxiety of waiting to feel him move - it all makes up this unique experience of mine. And regardless of the pain, discomfort and stretching that I endure, I know in the end it's all worth it.