"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  "The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." —  Frank Herbert, Dune   Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other.    I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet.  "Love is a many splendored thing."  It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built.   The  willow  is the t...

   I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go.    And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought.  This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality.  ...

   By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself.   I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to be...

  I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to.  "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -"   This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him.  "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

     I always wanted my kids to have the "cool" stuffed animal. I wanted them to be the odd one out. So, when Owen was born I bought him a stuffed fried egg, a stuffed ravioli, a cool dragon, and a neat narwhal. Needless to say, he didn't really take to any of those. And he didn't really have a favorite stuffed animal until he turned 1. To this day, we still don't know where he got this thing. It's a nerdy little tiger, with a ribbon bow under its chin, that goes everywhere. In fact, if he leaves him at home on "accident" we say tiger stayed home to take a nap because he was tired.     I don't think Owen realized that his father's favorite animal was the tiger; I think this stuffed animal just showed up around his birthday, and he started asking for it. It seems to me that most kids have some "comfy" habit...sucking thumbs, sucking a pacifier, twirling hair, carrying around a blanket or a stuffy. Owen is no different. Except, it isn...

   It was always an easy gift to get...yellow roses, some wonderful chocolates, a charcuterie assortment, a pedicure for the both us, and time spent together. The time was her favorite. But, this year, no yellow roses, no chocolates, no charcuterie assortment, no pedicure, and most felt...no time spent together.    I can't say I have been looking forward to this day. But, it came anyway. In 37 years, I didn't think I would be motherless so soon in life. It's been 8 months, 37 weeks, 262 days, and 6,294 hours since she left me motherless. Just 2 weeks after Claire was born...she left.    My husband, children, wonderful friends, and father have gone out of their way to make this day a bit more bright. Thinking of me a little more today. Not because I am a mother, but because I no longer have mine.   But lately, when I think about her, I get angry. Not necessarily angry at her-she would have fought tooth and nail to stay, but angry nonetheless. Why? Maybe...

  When I was pregnant with Owen, mom took me, just days before his birth, to get a pedicure. She and I always enjoyed getting our nails and feet done, and this was her treat to me. This time, with Claire, was no different. Mom took me on August 6th to get my "pre-birth" pedicure. I chose a bright pink because bright colours make your skin look more tan.   Mom always said her polish lasted a long time because she didn't wear many closed-toe shoes. Mine didn't. I wear steel-toed boots and closed-toe shoes everyday.    This time is different. I have just a sliver of polish left. The last vintage of the time she and I sat in the massage chairs next to each other talking about how things were going to change with a new baby.    We laughed at the thought of Owen and his new baby sister. We smiled at the thought of me groggily waking each morning getting nothing but a few moments of sleep. We basked in the moments of just being there with each other.   I told...

  There's a song, by Superchick, I used to binge when Andy died. The first time my mom heard it she looked at me and said, "They wrote this about you."   "She never slows down.   She doesn't know why   But she knows that when she's all alone,   Feels like its all coming down   She won't turn around   The shadows are long and she fears if she cries.    that first tear,   The tears will not stop raining down" I'll admit it, I've barely cried for mom. Most certainly a lot less than I ever imagined, and I think perhaps I am just waiting for the fall out. But, to experience a fall out, one has to be pushed to their literal brink.    Welp, I've hit it. I hit the wall. I hit the wall so hard, I'm a glob of goo running down slowly. And that first tear isn't stopping.    I'm laying beside my 5 week old, listening to my husband snore, (begging him to stop) running on 2 hours of sleep in the last 48, with a sick toddler in the o...

  It is customary in a eulogy to begin with a name, a date of birth, death date, those who have gone before and those who are left behind. However, mom does not deserve customary. So this letter is for her… Mom,     I feel like I am back here too soon. Once again, I am giving words about someone that I loved most who left me too early. Monday afternoon, I sat in front of Father Desmond and he asked me this, “Give me one thing that describes your mom.” I will admit I drew a blank. How could I take your entire life and micro focus it into one thing? How could I take you and break you down into a simple idea of one thing? I can’t.     I mean… How can anyone describe the North Star without seeing it? The only star that never rises or sets. The only star that is in the same place every night. The star that is the easiest to find and the one by which we navigate.  How can anyone describe a compass without using one? The most accurat e means to guide us ...

  It's something really...that moment of clarity. For the past 36 hours, I have been waiting for that moment. The one that makes it all just--fall in line.    I thought it would be the moment I was wheeled into the OR for my scheduled c-section. It wasn't. I thought it would be the moment I got to see if my daughter actually had hair. It wasn't. I thought it would be the moment I got to smell her breath to engulf the smell of life as I did her brother. It wasn't.    I just couldn't find it. And yet, for the last 36 hours all the wonderful little things I got to experience as I held my new little baby were leading up to the one I was missing.    You see...since I found out I was pregnant, I have been carrying around this deep-rooted sense of disinterest. Did I really want another baby? Did I actually want this? I had the perfect son who really had all the love I could hold. How would I ever love someone else as much as I loved him?    I didn't...

   If I knew that having a baby would be like this, I just might not have done it. If I knew that I would be void of every shred of energy molecule, I would have asked white boy if we could find an alternate route. If I knew that I would function at the basest of levels, such like a paramecium, I would have said this is not for me.   Now, I say these things having had a wonderfully easy pregnancy with my son. It was a breeze. I had no issues. Had it not been for the fact that I felt the hiccups and the occasional gymnastics routine while my stomach protruded outward, I wouldn't have known I was pregnant. All that to say...I was expecting another easy peasy pregnancy. Ha! I'm a flipping idiot.    I don't complain to throw in the face of all those who can't get pregnant. Or, even complain about what some would consider miniscule in comparison to what others have gone through. I do it because it is happening to me and I can't fix it. I complain because damnit...it ...

   I often wonder why, after almost 11 years, I post inevitably 2 times a year...without fail. Will I ever not? His birthday and his death day. And perhaps because those 2 days are and will always be very important to me. The day God gave him breath and when He took it away.   However, this year is slightly different. This year when we raise our glasses to toast his birthday we will toast the coming of his new niece or nephew.    *sigh* Here we are...the beginning of our second trimester of our second child, and I am still doing all I can to drum up my excitement and glorious anticipation. I've spent the last 8 weeks dreading the concept of 2 under 2, the bringing back of the bottles, the months of sleepless nights, and all the awful things that come with a newborn. And I am overwhelmed.    But, I also have spent the last 2 months looking at my son and knowing that as madly in love as I am with this kid, I will grow to be just as madly in love with the...

 Owen Hayes,   When I was a little girl on my birthday, Nanny would always recount to me my birth story. It was something I always looked forward to and always received without fail. It has been several years now since I have heard it, but could probably verbatim retell. As you get older, I plan to continue this tradition. I know that if I tried to tell you today, you would mumble something (maybe yell a little) put your hands down by your side, tilt your head down and walk away uninterested. So, instead I thought I would just share with you 2 of my favorite things about you...   1. Your magically infectious smile.           I never knew how good the feeling would be to have someone run up to you and just want love. I didn't think I could be someone's "favorite." Perhaps because I didn't understand it. Yes, I was your Uncle Andy's favorite, and I was your father's as well...but this is different. When you look at me, either when I pick you up...

 There is only so much you can take. Only so much you can handle before you just can't. Anymore.      What is strength? How can one quantify it? Can you really be strong physically and have no emotional or mental strength? If so, how do you cope? If not, how do you balance? It is innate in us to give of ourselves. To something...whether it be family, friends, work, or just ourselves. But, we give what needs the most. Or, what we think needs the most. And it drains us. Completely.     I would venture to say, most of the time it is easy, and, if not easy, then manageable. But, what happens when it isn't anymore? I remember feeling this exact way when I was working at my last job. I would go and go and go and go...and then find myself on the verge of breaking. This past month has been the hardest for me in some time. Why? I don't think I can pinpoint exactly the reason, but I feel it. I feel the over-bending and the near-shattering of myself.   ...

   Yesterday, Bee and I celebrated 4 years of marriage. 4! *Insert wide-eyed emoji* To some, that is minutes, a blip on the radar, a drop in the ocean. To us, it's everything. Our whole beings are wrapped up in the very thought of the other,  and I wish it no other way.    This year, the traditional gifts are fruit and flowers. 2 wonderfully fragrant, and refreshing things. However, they are alive, and they die. They must be enjoyed. They must be used for the betterment of ourselves before they pass.    With the birth of our son, we have had so many new and different challenges. Last year, we became tough like leather so as to weather the never-ending storms that pelted our lives. This year...we find ourselves having to become more malleable and sweet. Fragrant even for our little to be embraced in.    This has been more difficult for me. I tend to get hard and forget that the most important things are needed to be felt with an open heart and...

  Someone asked me last week if my life has changed being a mother. I responded rather flippantly with something like, "I understand more sleepless nights and perhaps shorter patience." But, this week has caused me to look a bit more introspective.   This Holy week was too reminiscent of the last, at least of me not being at Mass celebrating the Triduum, the 3 most holy days of our liturgical calendar. But, last year, Covid was beginning to take over the world, and unbeknownst to anyone but me, at least what I thought to be true, I was pregnant.    Here we are, a year later, baby Owen almost 4 months old and Covid finally getting more under control thanks to those of us who take things seriously.    But, what has changed since I became a mother? I understand a little more now Abraham's sorrow and fear when he led Isaac up the mountain to sacrifice him. I understand a little more now the pure happiness that showed on the face of the prodigal son's father. I ...

  Me: "So, we can't use condoms."   Bee: "Okay."   Me: "And, I don't do birth control."   Bee: "Ookaayy..."   Me: "So, I would imagine that me being so regular in my cycle that we are going to get pregnant pretty quickly."   Bee: "Gotcha..."   Me: "Oh, and no sex until we are married."   Almost 5 and a half years ago, a conversation very similar to this took place between me and white boy. I felt it important to lay down everything I wanted, needed, and expected in a relationship due to the fact that I was done chasing and giving in to men. I figured if he stuck around then there was something worth pursuing.    With conversations like this, he never flinched. Not once. I think he might have been skeptical at times, perhaps to see if I would relinquish my, "You have to come to Mass with me. There is no choice, and our children will be raised Catholic," harsh expectations. But once I realized he wasn...

   It fell off sometime around the middle or maybe it was the end of week 2...the shriveled up remnant of the tie between my unborn child and me. I kind of always thought it would be a momentous event: "Call the papers! Call the masses! Owen's umbilical cord fell off." But, it was a quiet moment. Sometime around 230 in the morning. It was just me, and I thought, "Huh, so this is how it happens." I open his onesie to change him and there it sits on his belly...no longer attached. I saved it in a little box so white boy could see it in the morning.    I was told by more than several people that once Owen was born it would all be worth it. That all the pain all the madness that came with labor and birth would all float away when he was placed on my chest. Well, I didn't get that. I didn't get the first moments to hold him to see if I could feel the ebb of pain and turmoil as they left my body. It wasn't for least 45 minutes, as I laid there to get stitc...

   Name (s): Alysse, Aly, babe, beautiful, and mommy (!!!)    State of mind: Clusterf***   Hair: I would say messy bun, but not in the cute way...more in the "Holy hell what happened to you" way   Fashion: compression knee high socks, shorts, depends diapers with overnight maxi pad insert, nursing tank top, and a tired bland expression.   Reality: new mother   First of all, I have to mention that when the nurse was discharging me and explaining what my mental state might be postpartum, I laughed. I began to regret it 4 miles from home as I start crying and couldn't stop. "You might experience the need to cry one moment and not the next." Welp, this was full on tears. Waterworks. The let down!    It wasn't pain either, at least not in the sense of physical pain. Sure, that was there, but this was, "I need my mommy and I need her now," kind of pain. And, when we pulled up into the drive, I saw her come out on the porch with her camera, I f...

   "I c-c-c-can't stop shaking." "Oh, that is normal," he said as he looked down at me before he peered back over the blue medical sheet in front of my face. I couldn't. I just couldn't stop the incessant shaking. The moment of welcoming my son had played out in my head everyday for the last 10 months, and I promise, this was NOT it.   We arrived 30 hours prior, and my utopistic idea of induction had not come true.    "There are only a few reasons we would revert to a cesarean section... 1. He is under stress. 2. I am under stress. 3. He isn't progressing after some time, but chances are we won't get there."    So, after 22 hours of quite intense labor, I found myself being prepped for a c-section. I'll be the first to admit, my words of, "We will do what we have to do to have a healthy baby," seemed so far gone now. I wasn't sure emotionally how I had gotten this far, or even how I would get further.   "We are go...