Because there is nowhere else to go with this...

Today was one of those days where I had to wonder if I can ever really end this journal of sorts.  As much as I move forward and find there is less and less that can only be said here, I wonder if something will always come along.  And even if no one reads this, it feels so much more satisfying to send these thoughts out into the universe with a click of the mouse than to just write them down with pen and paper and shove them in a drawer.

I just don't know what to do with the People magazine article featuring now grown, former micropreemies.  Healthy, happy young adults who were all born between 23 and 27 weeks.  I don't know what to do with the image of their smiling, life-filled faces now burned into my consciousness.  I don't know what to do with the images of what they looked like at birth, so like my own tiny two, in contrast to now.  And more than anything I am weary of trying to figure out what to do with the swirling emotions that inevitably bubble up to the surface every time a story like this makes it way into the mainstream media.

If only I hadn't insisted on taking the boys to get haircuts.  That's the only place I ever pick up People magazine.  Little T was right (again), haircuts are dumb.

The last page

I think I have come to the last page in this journal.  

That's how this blog began- as a way to put my thoughts out into the universe.  It felt different than putting pen to paper even though I had no idea whether anyone would ever read my words. What I wanted, I think, was for Molly and Joseph to have a bigger mark on the world.  I wanted to make sure their story had been told and that our love and longing for them was chronicled.  I wanted their names to go out beyond our own little world and to know that maybe, just maybe, they could have an impact on someone else.

I think I did that, and I think I am done.

I have exhausted the words I can find to express the fulness of their existence and I have grown content with the quiet thoughts of my heart.  

There are things I could write about- my other kids, my life, my faith.  I have done that before and I could continue on that way but I don't have a need for that.  I am not interested in writing from a purely superficial level, but I am also not thick skinned enough to take the heat when more controversial topics are raised.  I'm not sure I was ever cut out for blogging but I have appreciated tremendously my experience in this strange little land and the friends I have made.

I will probably keep visiting my blog friends now and then, but I am closing up shop.

Be well.  God bless.  

Peace.

Life in Babylon

Sometimes I wonder if it is even possible to raise children of faith in this culture?  I speak primarily of my own faith, Christianity, but I imagine it isn't any easier for Jewish parents here in the States.  I'm sure there are geographical pockets where one would find the task easier than I do in my corner of the ol' USA.  I know there are communities in which one faith group is so concentrated that it must feel somewhat less challenging to pass along your faith traditions, values and beliefs.  Maybe.  I don't know.

I live in a highly secularized area of the country.  We are, in fact, statistically one of the most "unchurched" populations in the nation.  We have plenty of zealots in our area, they just tend to be fanatical about things like politics, the environment, or public transportation.  Even within our communities of faith it can be hard to determine who is there primarily out of a sense of tradition/obligation, and who is there because of deeply held spiritual beliefs.  To be a Christian, an open, practicing Christian, is an act of defiance against the majority in this city. Or, at least it feels that way at times.

Big J loves skateboarding.  He also loves watching skateboard videos on Youtu.be.  Our computer is in a central location of the house and his Yo.utube account goes through my email so I have full access to his viewing habits and any communications he might receive via that medium.  Therefore, under our watchful eye, we allow him his You.tube.

This morning I received an YT email notifying J of some new videos posted by some of his favorite skateboarders.  Normally I scan these emails quickly, make sure they appear on the up and up, and then delete.  But this morning the title of one of the videos caught my eye.  It referenced the name of the summer camp Big J has attended every summer since he was in the 4th grade.  This camp is his favorite because it has a large, covered skate park and thus offers skateboarding as one of its many activity options.  J has loved that camp every single summer he has attended and always comes home beaming and excited and talking about how he wants to be a counselor there someday.  Let's call the camp, Camp Skate.

One of the videos listed in my email today was titled, "Camp Skate Sucks."

Camp Skate is a Christian camp.  It is a very open, honest Christian camp.  It does not pretend to be otherwise and it is clear in every piece of PR they put out that they are a Christian camp. What this means for the kids is that they pray before meals, sing a few God-songs at campfire, and pray with their counselors before bed.  That's about it.  Other than that, it is a camp with swimming, and crafts, and archery, and moto-x, and skateboarding etc.. etc.. etc...  As I said before, Big J has loved it.

During the non-summer months, Camp Skate opens the skatepark during certain hours for kids to come and skateboard for a small fee.  They are still quite clear that they are a Christian organization and they consider this part of their ministry.  I believe at the end of the session they ask the kids to gather together and they say a short group prayer and then send them on their way.  Again, they make no secret of who they are and what they are about.

I checked out this video "Camp Skate Sucks" and while the video itself wasn't too bad, the comments from the boys who attended one of these sessions made my heart sink.  They claim to have been unaware it was a Christian skatepark.  I don't know how they missed that one.  I have never seen a piece of advertising or PR for this camp that wasn't very forthright about their affiliation and intentions.  They claim that all they heard was that there would be free Gatorade and so they decided to go.

Their comments weren't surprising to me.  I know that not very many kids these days view religious beliefs and practices in a positive light.  What was upsetting to me was thinking about how Big J might feel if he should read their comments.  The boys were clearly very annoyed and disgusted by the Christian affiliation.  One of the comments read, "it is a Christian skatepark-sooooo g.ay!!!" Which is an offensive comment on so many levels.

The part that really bothered me though, on behalf of my son, was their very clear insinuation that anyone who would regularly skate at this skatepark, or profess themselves to be a Christian, is not only idiotic, but not a true skateboarder.  In fact, one of them wrote that he thought it was "weird" that any kid would go to this skatepark by choice.  A Christian who skateboards? Obviously you would have to be completely and totally lame.

I don't know if Big J will see this video or not and I am torn about whether or not to say anything to him about it.  You have to remember, he is our kid who is never enthusiastic about any conversation that might get deep and real.  I'm not even sure I could get him to talk about this or admit to having seen it even if I tried.  But I do wonder how he feels about these kinds of comments and attitudes.  I wonder if he shrugs them off or if they get into his psyche and make him doubt who we are and everything he has been taught?  I wonder if it will make him self-conscious about the camp he attends, or telling other skateboarders the name of his school (a Christian school)?  Just how much courage and self-awareness can we expect from a 14 year old boy?

It makes me wonder.  It makes me worry.  It makes me sad.

Monday musings

- Big J looked painfully tired when he left for school this morning.  Disheveled hair, rumpled clothes, bleary eyes, the works.  I almost felt a teeny bit guilty when I crawled back into my warm bed after he left.  Almost.

- I don't believe for a minute the diet gurus who tell us that if we just eliminate unhealthy starches and sugar from our diet long enough we will no longer crave them.  I haven't had an unhealthy starch or refined sugar in almost three weeks and if I could have a big bowl of cookie dough right now without any repercussions to my health or waistline I would eat it in a minute. Seriously, yum.

- I don't know if there is anything sweeter than my Pumpkin when she first wakes up in the morning.  When she wraps her arms around my neck and her warm little body snuggles into mine... it's heaven on earth.

- In other news, this "stimulus" package that is about to be foisted on all of us, as well as our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, has got me so angry it is almost causing me to forget my vow never to let anything that politicians do cause me any emotional distress.  As a member of a fourth generation family construction business I know full well what happens to government money allocated to "infrastructure."  Garbage.

- Why can't I ever get Pumpkin to preschool on time?  Could it be because I am sitting at the computer fifteen minutes before she is supposed to be at school? 

- Why is it so hard to think of what to fix for dinner every night?

-  I know we won't be having another baby.  We just won't.  And, at the end of the day, it's probably more about missing the two babies I didn't get to raise than it is about wanting another one.

Just when you think...

I really thought I had settled this.  The past six months or so I have felt amazingly content with my life as it stands.  The longings and wonderings had faded into a distant memory.

Then today, it hit me again.

Maybe I do want another baby.

Sigh... here we go again.  Welcome back emotional roller coaster.

Looking for a do-over

When I think of my role as a mother, and how well I have fulfilled that role, I often think of the years 2003-2006 as the Missing Years.  I do so privately because anyone else in my real life would immediately assure me that I am being too dramatic or too hard on myself or a little of both.  And they would be right.  To call them the Missing Years is a bit dramatic because, of course, they happened, and I was here, and remarkably there was probably more good than bad.

Still, they were hard, complicated years and I was not always the mother my boys probably needed me to be.

A quick recap:

2003- Became pregnant with twins after 2+ years of going through fertility therapy; unexpectedly had to change schools for reasons beyond our control and not to our liking; started a new school while quite largely pregnant with twins; lost twins two months into the new school year.  Grieving commenced.

2004- Still grieving lost babies; became pregnant again; learned my father was diagnosed with cancer.

2005- Still grieving lost babies; new baby born; Dad dies; now caught up in the throes of grieving father while mothering a rather high-need infant.

2006- Still grieving all of the above, still busy mothering beautiful baby- but the fog begins to lift...

And the thing is, when that fog lifted, my boy that had been all of 8 years old when this all started was now 11.  And I think I missed some crucial windows of opportunity during that foggy, overwhelming time.  He didn't lack for hugs, or smiles, or kisses good night. He didn't lack for love or even attention.  What he missed out on was having a fully attuned, intentional mother.  I gave him what I had and what came naturally, which was my love, but I didn't have the energy to think of what he might need beyond that.  I wasn't looking for where he needed guidance, or support, or critical lessons about life and what lies ahead.

He made it easy, that one.  He's a pretty simple guy with pretty simple needs.  That's how he likes it, smooth and easy... everything on the level.  Don't get too deep, don't push too hard, and we'll get along just fine.  

But at 8 years old he was a little more open... a little more willing to hear, to talk, to listen.  And I missed that.

Some things never change

There is a sandwich shop near our home which we frequent all too frequently.  The manager knows us by now.  If I come in alone she always asks about the kids and she's always excited when I have Pumpkin with me.  Clearly she enjoys children.

Today I popped in there just to get my precious diet soda (yeah, whatever, sue me), and she happily revealed to me that she is expecting twins.

Now, I've been at this long enough now that it wasn't any trouble for me to smile and offer her my most sincere best wishes.  She told me she is really happy and excited and I told her that she should be, that it is wonderful news.

What surprised me was how much I wanted to tell her that I too was once expecting twins.  That I had twins.  That I know that excitement of planning for two babies to arrive at once.  I wanted to share the good parts, but there was no way to do that without also sharing the bad.  And sharing my own sad experience would not have been fair at all to her in the midst of her own happiness.  She doesn't need my cautionary tale.  I'm sure she has plenty of worries all of her own making.  She's only 17 weeks along, she doesn't need me planting the thought that 7 weeks from now it could all be over, especially when in all likelihood it won't be.  She, like the majority of other mothers who carry twins, will probably bring her babies home.  And that is exactly what I want for her.

I got in the car and found myself needing to take a few deep breaths.  In through the nose, out through the mouth.  I felt the tears starting to rise and I didn't want them to.  I just didn't.  So I stopped them, but somehow I haven't been able to lift the heavy weight that has settled on my heart since our conversation.  Sometimes you can only push aside so much.

So much has gotten better in the past five years, but some things... I think they will just always be hard.