Traversing the summit

It’s been forever since I have written. Jacob is six months old now and sleeping upstairs. Today is a vacation day, but I find myself at the computer.I have team reviews to write, but I find myself distracted.

The snow outside is exquisite. It blankets our yard, and gentle shadows cascade across its surface. I want to roll around in it. Taste it. Come in chilled and wet and exhilarated.

I realized this week that I have been motivated (and often immobilized) by fear. Anxiety about “the worst” happening has seemed to put me in retrograde. Everyone has one of those fault lines. The dark crevass of our psyche where the “worst case sinario” seems to beckon, exascerbating our fears. My family is wonderful and healthy, my marriage solid, my job is exciting. Still, when you have spent your life building things up, you sometimes get consumed by the idea that they can so easily come tumbling down.

I have realized that in my quest to keep everything moving, I am beginning to loose pieces of myself. In fact, some things are moving in the wrong direction! I am like a hiker that has made it to the summit, only to find that she’s climbing the wrong mountain! Although the view is lovely, there are some things that I have lost along the way. I need to pack up, and lighten the load, and make it back down the hill. I’ll only carry what is necessary, like my child and my values. I’ll walk in step with my husband. At times, we can coax the other on, when one feels they cannot continue. When we get back down to the base camp we will decide what we really need for our next adventure. We will leave the gunk behind, pack a little lighter, and set out for the true summit. We will rest, breathe deep and take time for love. This adventure is not time bound!

So, here I go. being a little vague because I have to be. Just know that I will take you with me. And the view along the way, though rough at times, will be lovely.

Here comes the sun!

 

Jacob at birth

 

Baby Jacob is 6 weeks old now. Life certainly has changed. What an incredible journey. I hold this baby in my arms and I can’t believe that he is ours.

There’s so many things about pregnancy and birth that no one tells you. I guess it is different for each woman, each child. Yesterday I taught Jacob what the sun was. I think we were both experiencing it for the first time…

3-D Ultrasounds

Our dear friends treated us to a session of 3-D ultrasounds. It was quite amazing. I have added them to the following link, if you would like to see them.

Blessings to you.

Shell & The Bear

Dream House: The Courtship of We

I meet with our realtor today to sign the purchase and sale agreement for our new house! This is the last big step before the closing. The Bear and I have to run to the bank and withdraw our down payment.  I have to say that it is somewhat overwhelming (but terribly exciting).

Last week I decided to meld our bank accounts together, rather than keeping my own private accounts. This might seem like a “given” for someone who has been married two years with a baby on the way, but it was my last vestige of independence. My financial competence. I needed to do merge our finances as a personal acknowledgement that I am part of a WE now.  Sure, there will be time for a “mad money account” later, but now, I need to know we both have access to this in case of an emergency.

I can’t lie here. This was really hard for me to do. When you have been single for so long you are used to being self-reliant. It is hard for me to be vulnerable. To know that family decisions will now override personal ones. But it’s time.

Here are some more pictures of the Dream House. I am still going bonkers with ideas for paint, nursery, and period details. It’s been a pleasant distraction. A real focus on  the future. 

The front of the 1850's colonial

 

The backyard at dusk

 

The Beech tree stands vigil.

 

The long driveway from the road.

 

Dream House- a love story

The Bear just called me to let me know that our Dream house is going back on the market MONDAY. Let me please explain that this house has become our pastoral obsession. We drive by it with forlorn looks, as if approaching an unobtainable lover. We have even stalked the owner and the realtor, sending letters of speculation when it was first taken off the market last year.

It seems that our dream house was purchased by someone at the height of the market several years ago. This man paid top dollar, as was the norm of the time. A few years later , he goes to sell only to find that the market has tanked (a familiar note, unfortunately). He aims high and lists it for far too much, trying to recoup some of his losses. The house sits empty for a year with no one to love it. Eventually the man lowers his price. Still no takers. He finally gives up and gets a renter, leaving the FOR SALE sign in the yard for a few days.

Meanwhile, a couple drives  down a winding road with grand houses and modest New England cottages which are separated from the street by an old stone wall. They spot a red sign about a half acre off the street. Eureka! Beyond it lies a rolling hill and a long driveway that leads to an old Victorian farmhouse. There is a huge old Oak tree out front that seems to be standing sentinel. It appears to be least 100 years old and has a tire swing attached to it. The husband swears that he can hear children playing tag football in the front yard, even though no one is present. The wife envisions sunny rooms, wide plank floors and fireplaces. Maybe even a sunlit nursery for the baby they long to have…one day.

No signs of occupancy, but the house sags longingly as if it wished that it were lived in. It reminds the wife of her vacant womb, waiting ….”It’s just a house” she tells herself. But then she looks over at her husband, who is smiling silently as if deep in thought. “It’s far from the road,” he says. “So kids could play and we wouldn’t have to worry.” KIDS! she thinks.

She loves his hopefulness.

They call the realtor, excited to learn more about this Dream house. They are told it is no longer on the market. That the seller has withdrawn and it will be a year before it is available. That’s when they begin stalking….

Six months pass. The wife tells her husband to move on. “There will be other houses,” she says. She is surprised by his attachment to this place. The pictures and stories he has created in his mind about the Dream house. “It’s only a house!” she tells him. But to the husband, it’s a future. Something once unattainable.

During the course of their house obsession, they discover they are expecting a baby. Ups and downs on the baby making rollercoaster, and this time- it sticks! They find out it’s a boy. They chose a name in honor of her great-grandfather, who came to America as a young man in 1901.(He probably had dreams of a house like this.)

They decide to stay in the city for another year. They work on their small apartment, in the hopes of one day putting it up for sale. They try to appreciate what they do have, and even though their baby will be sleeping in a large closet, they will make it the most lovely closet ever. The wife has dreams of hanging a tree limb above the crib. She has a thing for trees…

Then one day the husband calls the old realtor. He’s not ready to let go of his dream. The realtor says the house is being cleaned, and will be back on the market in FIVE DAYS. The husband calls the wife. The wife (being a type A and seeing too many Sex in the City Episodes) tells him to see if they can get in a few days early.”It’s all about timing!” she says.”And luck!”

Sometimes things happen in your life right out of the blue. One day your womb is empty, and then (after much heartbreak, laughter and tears) it is full. One day you are single, and the next, you have a partner who loves you. One day it can all be taken from you. But today….aaaaaaah today.

Wish us luck… you never know what tomorrow might bring….

Eat your cake

My friend left me a cupcake in a little gold box today. What a nice start to this glorious Friday.

The weather is truly ebullient here. After a season of frigid cold, the Earth seems to have opened up and embraced us. The Bear and I are doing a quick getaway up the coast this weekend, thanks to a very wonderful friend who gave us a night at an Inn  as a birthday present. Yes, next week I am 42!  It’s really hard to imagine because I have the same wide eyed thankfulness that I did at 25, and I still feel incredibly “fresh” and new at this life. This will be a milestone birthday. I can feel myself walking through a doorway, and changing into the woman I had always hoped to be : )

There are still many things on my life list. Still many blessings to count. But I remain forever grateful for the small miracles I have been given, and I hope to make each day matter.

How are you today? What are you grateful for?

Sunshine, Cupcakes and Giorgio

Why does life seem so much better when it’s sunny out?

Why do cupcakes on St. Patrick’s Day taste BETTER with green icing? Speaking of which, why do cupcakes taste better than cake, when they are really pretty much the same thing, only more cutified?

I’m not sure why I am musing on such things today, but it’s truly exquisite out, and I just want to dance.

Yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of our first date. The Bear and I actually met on match.com : ) and our first outing was to see the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in South Boston. I remember that he wore a horrible green sweater on that said IRELAND, and he gave me such a tremendous bear hug that I felt immediately at ease. The parade was insane, but we took refuge from the madness at a local tavern and talked for hours. Throughout our talk, I still had my “beetle skin” on. It’s my career -girl “don’t get too close to me” defense mechanism when a cute guys tries to be too nice to me. Needless to say, we kissed on the doorstep, and there was definitely a second date….

Now our baby-to-be is 18 weeks in the oven, and I can’t believe our good fortune. I never thought I would marry anyone, let alone someone I love so much.

Next week, a few of the designers on my team are going to Milan to work with a famous couturier’ on a collaboration. This designer is truly someone I have idolized my whole adult life. He created a movement in the 80’s and is still an icon today. I think of him every time I put on something silky, or hear the words “power suit”.

I’ve met The Maestro before. He’s a small man, with tanned skin and a shock of white hair. He embodies elegance. When he comes into the room, the people go silent. I love working with his team because they are amazingly gifted and incredibly gorgeous. They have long, sultry names like those you’d find in a romance novel. Plus, their office is in a piazza in the centre of Milan. I guess it used to be the house of a nobleman. Sure puts my cubicle to shame!

I bring all of this up because my team is going to Milan, but I am not. I have chosen not to go – and to try not to fly until A.B. (after baby).As you transition from one stage of life into another , you have to give up a few things to make room for the new ones. This baby is my priority right now. I have been so run down, trying to “do everything” and I think I have been doing him/her a disservice. I don’t worry about the flight to Milan, but I worry about what state I will be in upon my return. Plus, the trip falls on my birthday, and it’s going to be a really precious birthday this year.

Milan will still be there. I keep telling myself. Hopefully, this collaboration will endure and there will be lots of great reasons to travel. Secretly, I have to say, it’s a little painful. Giving up the things you love so much, in place for others you love even more.

IVF and the Newlywed: Vaginasaurus

I’ve gotten about 50 hits on the blog this month by people searching the keyword “pterodactyl”. (See the posting: Fill Your Cup). Innocently, I recommended that anyone going through the baby-making process develop an “alter ego” to give voice to the new hyper-you that seems to come out during the meds and the stressful trials of trying to conceive. I refer to MY alter ego as Tarra, she’s a graceful pterodactyl. I could not go through this without Tarra. I can attribute (or blame her) for any mood swings or questionable tears that surface during the process. She’s also a great source of humor for both me and my husband, as we can just say “Tarra did it!” when anything particularly nasty comes out of my mouth.

Tarra sits on my right shoulder. She’s strong and powerful, but angers easily. Like me, she knows that even when it’s bad, it’s worth it. She’s not sure if this journey will bring us a baby through IVF, egg donation or adoption, but she assures me that there’s more than one way to make a family.

Tarra loves all women going on this journey, because no matter how beautiful, how successful, or how self-actualized we are, we are still humbled by the process. Her little reptile heart beats for each of us.

I bring this up for two reasons:

1. I think everyone should have an alter ego.

2. There are a handful of schoolchildren out there, looking for information on Dinosaurs, and finding a Vaginasaurus instead….

…..oops.

 

Ben-Hur and the Unmade Bed

I have nothing to say today.

The air is crisp and it’s the first real day of “sweater season”. The Bear is watching “Ben-Hur” on his new TV. The music on the tube sounds like something you’d hear in a temple, or on the muddy riverbank of the Nile. I have been to the Nile, and the only sounds I remember were car horns and children. But, if the Nile were set to music, it would sound salty and rhythmic and opalescent. Like Ben-Hur ,I suppose….

I have nothing else to say today.

Sometimes I wonder if I am truly living fully in each moment, or I am spending all of my energies looking forward (or back!). Can I eat a meal and savor its taste on my tongue, or is my mind already on dessert and the chilly walk home? Same with family; I long to cherish these first few years of marriage. This time of learning and growing together with exclusive rights to each other’s hearts- prebaby. How can I remain in this moment, without my heart longing for ( ______ )!

I tried, this morning, to STAY in the moment. The sun was casting a warm glow into our bedroom window, throwing long shadows across the bed. I’m one to make lists in my head as I rise, but today I stayed in bed with my beloved. Just stayed in place. Hard for me – this staying STILL.

The dawn was in transition. Somewhere between summer’s end and fall’s beginning. It was cold, and warm and lovely.

BE WHERE YOU ARE. Relish it because there is no other place to be.

IVF and the Newlywed: Second Trip Around the Sun

Tomorrow marks our first wedding anniversary…..

I never expected to be married, particulary, at the ripe age of 40. But sometimes love throws you for a loop. Had I done it sooner, I might have been with the wrong person. Had I waited, keeping my heart quietly hidden, I would missed out on this jewel of a man.

 

Our Red Sox Wedding

 

 

My husband is a Big Boston Boy. Everything about him is bold and robust. He loves deeply and laughs loudly and has a golden heart.

Who would have imagined that our first year of marriage would be so full of challenges and triumps. The trials of baby-making have certainly hampered our spontaneous romps on the living room floor, but we created loving rituals for all the landmarks of IVF. I know I was meant to be with him, and meant to go on this journey, even though it hasn’t always been easy. 

We’re taking a short break from IVF, and I cannot begin to tell you how nice it feels to have my “body” back. I feel whole again. ME again. I am looking forward to enjoying this hiatus from meds and Dr. visits. We leave for the Tropics tomorrow….

Here is a poem I treasure. I used it in our wedding album. I believe LOVE has a way of finding people. It can manifest itself in many forms.

 

Marriage

BY LAWRENCE RAAB

 

Years later they find themselves talking

about chances, moments when their lives

might have swerved off

for the smallest reason.

What if

I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?

What if you’d been out,

as you were when I tried three times

the night before?

Then she tells him a secret.

She’d been there all evening, and she knew

he was the one calling, which was why

she hadn’t answered.

Because she felt—

because she was certain—her life would change

if she picked up the phone, said hello,

said, I was just thinking

of you.

I was afraid,

she tells him. And in the morning

I also knew it was you, but I just

answered the phone

the way anyone

answers a phone when it starts to ring,

not thinking you have a choice.

 

*****************************************************

 

…..And this is always one that tingles the loins….

 

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII

BY PABLO NERUDA

 

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as one loves certain obscure things,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

 

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries

the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,

and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose

from the earth lives dimly in my body.

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,

so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

 

 

TRANSLATED BY MARK EISNER