they took my heart

twelve years ago i met this kid. i didn't yet know his name or how funny he would be, how artistic, smart, sensitive, or how loving. i only knew i already loved him with a love i didn't yet know ...

at 8:15 am ian came out of my body and began his fantastic journey. 

i knew ahead of time that on this date the doctors would take this baby out of me. what i did not know is that they would also take my heart. 

i wasn't sure how my love would be divided equally between children and i just didn't know if i could or how i could love as much, again, as i already loved his brother. 

what i discovered was that the love was not divided. it was simply, and easily, multiplied. 

the heart i thought was intact left my body with his brother and then somehow left my body again with him. 

it's an amazing and indescribable thing when you see and know your heart and your love walking around outside of yourself. even more amazing is when you not only still feel whole, you feel even more complete. so much more so, that when your heart was yours alone, you were empty by comparison. 

it is a beautiful and perfect day to celebrate one of my great loves of my lifetime. 

this song is currently "his jam" lol

birthing and the giving of life

i love my children not because i have to love my children,
it is not a duty
or a job
or a responsibility
to love someone.


and i don't want my children to love me
out of obligation
or as an answer to bringing them into this world.


the act of one human being coming out of another human is a miraculous gift, but the birthing is not the giving of life.


the giving of life is
the loving
the choosing
the respecting
the connecting
the committing
the guiding
the protecting
the holding
the covering
the teaching
the encouraging
the valuing
the healing
the honoring
the investing of a lifetime
the breathing of breath
the feeding not of food but of the soul
the nurturing not of the body
but of the spirit
the answering to a calling

the knowing
that my heart
looks like their heart ...

 

the value of Love ...

i am imperfect as a mom.
i am imperfect as a person.
i am imperfect as a woman, sister, friend, daughter, and partner.
i have long since given up on perfection,
and i have fallen in love with realism.
i have fallen in love with humanness.
i have fallen in love with connection.
seeing life
through the eyes of my children
and those who truly see me,
know me,
and love me,
reminds me of who i am
and makes me continue to work on being
a better person.

i believe that all of our children
deserve to learn and grow through filters of grace, hope, love, security, and faith.

i would rather teach my children the value of a heart,
not the value of a face.
the value of mistakes,
not pride.
the value of integrity,
not denial.
the value of faith,
not fear.
the value of victory,
not complacency.
the value of respect,
not dishonor.
the value of truth,
not manipulation.
the value of celebration,
not judgment.
the value of compassion,
not narcissism.
the value of the human spirit,
not existence.
the value of kindness,
not neglect.
the value of learning,
not report cards.
the value of passion,
not conformity.
the value of a soul,
not an ego.
the value of accountability,
not blame.
the value of gratitude,
not entitlement.
the value of presence,
not appearance.
the value of peace,
not control.
the value of being,
not just doing.
the value of a relationship,
not a dollar.
the value of LOVE,
not apathy.
the value of living,
not merely breathing in and out day after day and turning the pages that someone else is writing and calling it their life …

pieces of me ... letters to my children

someone recently said to me that she believed in my conviction, in my own belief in the words i spoke to her, because she knows that i always speak directly from my heart.
this person remembered things i had talked about and written about almost a decade ago, which isn't a long time in the big picture of things, i realize this, but it surprised me and i felt honored not only to be her friend, but also to discover that part of me lived inside another person in this way.

also recently i was thinking about how when somebody leaves our side, regardless of reason or circumstance, it is helpful to be able to have something of theirs that is tangible ... whether we hold an item that belongs to them, or have a tattoo as a way of keeping and carrying their permanent presence, or sometimes words that they have written that speak from their heart and live in ours (sometimes both!)

i know that many of us have been in situations where we find ourselves going back and reading things that someone we love once wrote to us.  it is not always possible to define the peace or love that this can bring to us, often during moments when we need it most, in order just to find our very next breath.

i also then started thinking about my children, and when they will be grown and away from me.  and i wanted them to have pieces of me any time they want.  pieces of my heart.  pieces of my spirit.  words that they know come from the very center of who i am.  i decided to start writing something every day, (this is my plan) and consolidate everything in one place.  whatever is on my mind.  random thoughts.  random feelings.  i have set no rules ... i am not a rules person and i don't like being told what to do ... apparently not even by myself!  just something i can give to my boys one day.  maybe they won't want this or need this, and that's okay too.  still i want to offer it because, well, we just never know what life is going to throw our way,
and i know what it's like to feel alone
and need a piece of a person,
when i can't have the whole person,
in person ...

that's all

six months ago my friend callie left this world. it was unexpected. it was shocking. and it was her choice. 

callie's bracelet was on the table.
when i held it, from her wrist to mine,
it was like feeling the pulse of her life.

six months, in the big scheme of things, when you look at a whole entire lifetime, is not that long. 

when you look at a baby and the growth and development from the moment they're born until they're six months old, six months' time is tremendous. 

when you look at it not day by day or even minute by minute, but breath by difficult breath, it can be an eternity.

it can be a nightmare. 

and unfortunately, it can be a reality.

i spent some time recently with callie's mother. we cried a lot. we laughed a lot. how she laughed, i don't know. we listened to each other. we taught each other things we didn't know about callie. we held each other. 

sometimes it happens that we are gifted with the presence of another person and we don't know why it happens when it does ... we might not even think about it. but afterwards we know that it was necessary. that's all. we can feel that we needed to be sharing life with each other at that moment.  life. strength. love. 

as i sat with callie's mom and felt her love and heartache, there were times when her laugh or her words would sound exactly like callie.  it was amazingly freaky and comforting at the same time.  i stared at her in a way i never have before.  i remembered how we first met and how we never would have imagined we would be in this position now.

after holding each other and breathing the same breaths with our faces touching, she got up to get something to give me.  i had not come for anything and certainly did not expect to leave with anything. she knew this, and she placed a bracelet in my hand.  a bracelet of callie's.  i held it in the palm of my hand, i held it to my face, and couldn't let go of it.  again it was like the pulse of her life.  the pulse of the universe.  i put it on and have not taken it off even for a moment.  when i first had the experience which i wrote about, of sitting next to the man on the airplane, taking pictures of his bracelets representing suicide prevention, not knowing that it was just hours after callie had left us, i had no way to fathom that i would be the one wearing a bracelet of the same heartache ... same yet different ... 6 months later.

there are some things that are never the same.

no one's life is ever the same as another's.

no one's grief is ever the same as another's.

and a mother's life after the loss of her child is never the same as her life before.

it isn't an experience that she ever "gets through." 

it isn't something that ever becomes "normal."

as mothers we often questions ourselves when it comes to our parenting:  should i have done that differently?  did i get that right?  was i wrong about that?  did i handle that in the best way?  was that a mistake i just made?  am i screwing up my child? over and over and over.  

a mother who has lost her child to suicide has her own set of additional questions that no one else has. 

i am grateful for callie's life.  i am grateful for the ways she touched so many lives around her.  for those who know callie, they know what i mean, and they know that i am not sanctifying her.  i am grateful for her mother, without whom callie would not have been the person she was and remains to be, to so many others in this world.  

as i sat with callie's mom i could feel not only her heartache and her struggle, but also callie's strength and tenacity.  i could feel callie.  and regardless of anything else, i was so proud of her mom.  not everyone grows up to have such a positive lasting effect on so many others.  not everyone grows up to be a giver.  not everyone grows up and asks that their mother live near them when they don't have to.  not everyone lives with the fearlessness of callie bradley mooney.  she exercised her right to make her own choices, that's for sure.  and her legacy will live on in the hearts and minds and lives of countless other people.  and that will then trickle down to the other lives that those people touch.  and callie would not have done that and been that, if her mother had not been her mother.

i knew while we shared this time, that there were no words i could say that would make anything better.  we both talked in circles with no logical thought patterns, just whatever came to mind and came out of our mouths.  i knew there was nothing i could do.  and i can't explain why or how, but i also knew i needed to be there ... we needed to be there ... at that very moment, having that very experience.  that's all.

you know how when someone's life is over, you have things you wish you had said, things you wish you had done ... it always happens, whether you knew the end was near or whether it was a total unexpected event.  yeah i have those things too ... 

i guess at this moment, with callie's pulse on my own wrist, i just miss her.  

that's all.

suicide prevention lifeline

survivors of suicide

american foundation for suicide prevention
cards callie would love LOL

november 23 is international survivors of suicide day.  click here to get involved:
international survivors of suicide day 2013

promises

i promise that you will have at least one moment in your life when you will feel scared.
you will have a moment when you feel misunderstood.
or alone.
or inadequate.
or just plain sad.
you are going to have times that hurt.
and times that aren't fair.
this is not because there is anything wrong with you.
there isn't.
this is life.
and life isn't always fair.
instead of asking "why me?"  learn to ask "why not me?"    

i promise that although i have never been in your shoes, and i haven't been You, i have experienced all of those things too, and i understand how hard life can be. 

i promise that when you are facing something i have never experienced, i will face it with you. 

i promise that you can come to me with anything, and i will stand by you.
i promise not to fix your problems.
not because i don't love you.
but because i do.
and because i believe in you.
i promise you are stronger and braver than you think you are. 

i promise that i will not scold you.
i will not judge you.
i will not use your words against you
and i will not tell you how to live your own life. 

your life is YOUR journey. 

i promise to love you, always more, and never less.
i promise that this will be true every single night when you lay your head down to sleep. 

i promise that you are never, ever, alone. 

pennies for fountains

♥

there was once a time when i didn't know if i would ever be a mother. i woke up every day not knowing.  i spent every day wondering.  i went to sleep at night not knowing.

something many people take for granted:   having a baby.  women and girls do it all the time, sometimes not wanting to, sometimes without a second thought, sometimes as if it is their right and not a privilege. 

like many others, i spent years in quiet desperation, hoping i would one day be a mom, wondering why it wasn't happening for me ... yet seemed to be happening for everyone around me.  getting to know the joy of pregnancy only to then meet the agony of my baby not surviving.  more than once, reliving this tragedy to my heart and to my body.  to my spirit.

i prayed. i wished on stars. pennies in fountains. dandelions. birthday candles.  wishbones.  ladybugs.  other people's babies. any possible way to get my heart's desire out there. 

and then i gave up.

it was a time that made me question a lot of things. it was a time that made me re-evaluate love and life and faith and destiny. 

it was a time that made me the mother i am today.

i have never taken one day of motherhood for granted.  grateful for the honor of loving and guiding my two children and grateful for the children i am allowed to love as my own but who i did not give birth to, today i especially celebrate my baby, ian david, who i proudly named after his uncle, and who i proudly adore to the ends of the earth. 

ian has always wished on stars  

and asked for pennies for fountains.

i always have pennies for him. i always stop what we're doing and give him time with the stars, no matter where we are, how late it is, how tired i am, if it's raining, etc.  i always stand and smile both inside and out, in silence and respect, and admire him as he gets his heart's desire out there. 

i would be incomplete without the ability to love and experience the beauty of his very special soul in my life.  i am beyond grateful for him and for the fortune of being his mom.

i can't believe he is 10. 

i can't believe he is mine. 

i can't believe i could be so very very lucky. 

♥