#MicroblogMondays: it still hurts

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A longer post today. Sorry in advance for breaking the Microblog rules.

In July 2012, Grey and I came to Boston for my postdoc interview/vacation/to attend his youngest cousin's wedding. There were many lessons I learned during this trip and to this day mark it as the beginning of our journey to healing from infertility (even though we were firmly in a place of uncertainty). 

The thing I didn't talk about, though, was a moment that still haunts me. An innocent enough moment that I've been shoving away because I assumed it was my problem and a fault I needed to deal with. But this post made it clear that sometimes the best thing to do is talk about it. So here goes.

Bit of background, this trip to Boston followed on the heels of some terrible events. We had just had gone through a failed FET, which followed on the heels of my second miscarriage.  The adoption agency we had planned to work with had told us to hold off (understandably so, but still hard to hear). And then the final element of Grey's brother and SIL announcing they were expecting almost immediately after my miscarriage. I knew going into this situation I wasn't going to do well. Grey and I had been working with David to try to defuse it as best as we could, but the reality was I was hurting and filled with anger. 

So seeing Grey's SIL, who was clearly pregnant, was hard. A reminder of the babies my body had failed to carry. There was also my MIL, who was clearly excited to be around her grandchildren and to be near my SIL as she was the one mainly providing these children. It was hard not to be jealous.

But the icing on the cake came later in the day. Grey and I had bought his niece and nephews some books. The kids were excited to have them, asking to be read. So the 3 youngest children gathered on the couch with my eldest nephew, who was a teenager, and as he read to them the adults sat back, smiled happily and snapped photos of the scene. All while Grey's SIL unconsciously stroked her belly.

It will be 4 years since that scene has played out this week. A lot has changed. So much in fact. And yet, that image still is a painful one. For years I've picked at it, trying to dissect why. I've tackled jealousy, envy, the fear and all the misunderstanding. I've been told that time heals all wounds and there have been many examples of how much the Beats are loved by our families.

Yet, the hurt remains. Something that seems so trivial still just isn't. 

With Bent no Broken's post, I realized that sometimes there isn't a way to make those moments okay. Despite how much as our loved ones want us to. It's hard because there's this assumption that the only road to peace is through absolving someone of any wrong that was done. Which leaves me wondering why. And who does it benefit.

On Wednesday the Beats turn 3 yrs old. Seeing them read their books, I think about that picture and play out in my head the dialogue I would have with myself all those years ago. That despite having them here now, that situation really sucked. And maybe that's okay to admit.

#MicroblogMondays: so much to say

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I've been in a weird spot recently with so much going on and so many thoughts on each topic. And because of this so much, I've found myself unable to properly sit down and really put to words the emotions and thoughts attached with each event or post. 

How the shootings in Baton Rouge and Minneapolis, highlighted in Justine's post corresponded with a small claims court case where the man suing our condo association repeated use racist and bigoted terminology in the court room. Of a decade of harassment and abuse coming to a close due to the rulings of a judge.

Or about Mali's recent series on "Putting your mind to it" brought up my own reflections on privilege and unspoken advantages. 

Or how Mel's recent posts on Truman have me teary-eyed while remembering the two furry ones I lost too soon.

Or this post has me remembering the pain for not so long ago.

And then there's the high from having to turn down two amazing job opportunities because I'm not ready to transition out of this postdoc. But to maintain those connections with the goal of actually building more opportunities next year.

Too many thoughts. Too much emotion. Hopefully my thoughts will sort out soon.

#MicroblogMondays: Calm space

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The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear. 
~Rumi

While in the thick of infertility, Dee often had me do a visualization exercise to help calm me following intense moments during our sessions. The exercise was a simple one: visualize a place where you feel completely safe and are able to calm yourself. 

My space was a hammock high up in a tree. Cocooned by the fabric, I would gaze up into the tree and watch with my mind's eye as the light played off the leaves.

Today, as the Beats and I were waiting for Grey to finish some lab work, we sat out under the trees in front of his building. Attempting to teach them the peace of laying in soft grass (something that is new to them), I had a moment where I gazed up into the trees. And reaching down to run my hands through the hair on top of those two small heads that were using my body as a pillow, all those memories and lessons came back. 

The solution for a small, brown one

I've been meaning to give an update on Daisy following my post on her driving us up the walls. Things we definitely getting bad there for awhile, with both cats whining constantly to get outside. Even Martha could hear them, which meant it was time for action.

A few years ago, Grey showed me this article from the NY Times about Catios. Both of us immediately got excited about the idea of outdoor enclosures where both Jaxson and Daisy could hang out undisturbed and made plans to convert one of the balconies into a catio. But then infertility got the better of us, combined with fears of unsafe neighbors using the catio to access our unit. And so the idea went to the wayside.

What brought me back to the article was a comment by JaneB about a cat cage. "Cat cage?" I thought. And immediately started investigating this option. Before long, I found a solution, made a case to Grey that this would save our sanity and the purchase was made.

Just to be clear, this isn't a perfect solution. Daisy loathes being locked up in any way, crying repeatedly until she is released. But the result is a million times better than before. Jaxson now has access to the deck and will spend all morning (and evening) out there happily watching critters. Daisy, though unhappy about lock up, also seems to get her fill from being outside and I do let her roam free on the deck with supervision, reminding her that escape is not an option.

This has resulted in two cats who now come indoors and happily lounge around without making a peep.

And two quiet, sleepy cats means Grey is no longer at the end of his rope with them. In fact, their relationship with all the humans is healing.

We're also now a neighborhood conversation starter, with people wondering if the cage will expand into an elaborate enclose, similar to the ones seen all over the internet.

JaneB, if you're reading this: Thank you. You reminded me to think outside the box on this issue. We are indebted to your wisdom.

#MicroblogMondays: Linen and Pearls

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On Saturday, Grey and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary. It was a strange day as it was pretty much any other weekend day. That evening, though, we hired a sitter to watch the Beats so we could go out to dinner and have some one-on-one time. Martha generously gifted us with some money towards the cause and made it clear she would be available if anything arose while we were out. Did I mention how much I adore this woman?

Dinner was wonderful. Grey and I haven't had a night to just be with one another without distractions is such a long time. Grey set the mood for the evening by surprising me with a small bottle of perfume and insisted we both dress up a bit for the night out. He had made reservations at a local restaurant that specialized in higher-end cuisine and was very thoughtful with ordering so that we would have a memorable experience. We talked candidly about all that has happened over the last year: about our fears, our disappointments, our hopes and our goals. It was much needed time away.

Near the end of dinner, I was fishing for my phone to make sure no urgent messages had been sent when I came upon some treasured mementos from past dates together. Marveling at these, Grey and I talked more about memories and years past. Remembering all the adventures and wonderful times we have had together. Remembering also the bright spots during times of pain, which we wouldn't have without each other.  

#MicroblogMondays: the blahs after the storm

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Sluggish. That's how I've been feeling following a month of terrible news. 

First we were hit with the unexpected realization of a badly worded resale certificate, resulting in a roller coaster in the real estate world.

Then we got more news that hit us on a financial front.

Following that came the explosion following the Brock Turner rape case.

Then Orlando.

And finally an alligator attack and news in this community about much wanted children lost too soon.

By Friday all my body wanted to do was sleep. Sleep to heal. Sleep to find peace as me being conscious wasn't bringing any.

Growing up, I remember venturing out into the world following a severe storm. People would cautiously pick their way through the debris, assessing the damage and making note of what was salvageable. But what I also remember is a sense of slowness that would come. Some referred to it as the calm and make note of the peace that had finally returned. But that never felt right. Instead it was a period of blah; a moment where "why do I care?" seemed to be on everyone's lips. 

A tipping point.

Walking out into the world today, I still feel that tipping point. Those moments where others seem to walk through a haze of not knowing to care. My body still feels it too. 

And I wonder, what will be the rally call to dispense of these blahs?  What will wake the world up from the numbness of the pain? Usually there are multiple messages. The question is, which one will win out?

#MicroblogMondays: Learning to dance in the rain

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"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain."
~Vivian Greene

There's been a lot of rain clouds lately. Rain clouds in intimate areas of my life and rain clouds in world events. So many are hurting today. Grey and I are shouldering that pain on top of our own uncertainty.

In the midst of all the hurt, there's a temptation to disconnect from life. To curl up in a secret place until the pain subsides and the sun dries up all the flood waters. At times, this really is the best course of action. But over the years, I've found there's many cases where the floodwaters don't truly subside, or at least won't without intervention. That sometimes it takes marching out into the rain and working with others to fight off the flood waters.

And most interesting are those who know how to dance in those storms. Encouraging others to puddle jump, laugh at thunder claps and find the beauty in what many deem terrifying.

Over the past year, I've witnessed many beautiful moments during terrifying times. During the 3 weeks Grey was unemployed, I remember fondly the walks we would take in the evenings with the Beats. With our condo crisis, there's been the moments where many have commented that if it wasn't for the wording of the reserve study, they would instantly buy our place as it's been well cared for (which has been shocking to hear). With the heartache of those who have experienced lost has come treasured memories of us bonding over insight into trauma. And there's been love experienced in moments that shines so brightly. Rainbows peaking through the storm clouds.

Make no mistake, my heart is still very heavy. But sometimes the best weapon against those who chose to spread darkness is to celebrate the light. To learn how to dance in the rain, even when the storm is at its worst.