My book club is an interesting group of friends who share an interest in reading...and in each other. It occurred to me the other day as I was thinking about how critically we review EVERY book we read that there must be a reason for our high standards. It couldn't be that we are just that snarky. Could it?
Then I took a hard look at the lives of the women and had a realization. Duh! Of course we sigh with disdain over the foibles of even the most intriguing hero in the most well reviewed books on the shelf. Our collective group has already lived a fairly rousing bit of drama in reality. The fictional characters that challenge many reader's sensibilities appear trivial to us. Almost as if they were paper dolls, easily whisked away by the draft of a swiftly opened door.
My girls have guts. We have glamour. We've lived the pants right off a lot of the more traditional book club plot lines. No wonder we're bored by convention!
How can I paint a picture that measures the infinite depth of the varied emotions we've felt, shared, celebrated, and sobbed over? Maybe some numbers regarding our 12 ladies...
Widowed -- 1
Divorced -- 3
Currently Married -- 8
Currently Involved with Long-term Partner -- 4
Children -- 31 (includes stepchildren)
Stillborn Children -- 5
Miscarriages -- Countless
Grandchildren -- 5
Currently Caring for Ill Parent(s) -- 1
Deceased Parent(s) -- 3
Provided Hospice Care for Parent(s) -- 2
Removed Loved One from Life Support -- 2
Survivor of Major Health Scare -- 3
Managing Chronic Illness -- 5
Career Transformations -- 9
Sibling Death in Violent Manner -- 3
Natural Hair Color -- 0 (it just depends on the day, people, don't judge!)
Tatooed -- 7
Good grief! Add in all the semantics of life that can't be quantified, all the time on the therapist's couches; the fertility crises; the faith challenges; the embrace of renewed faith; the broken hearts; the heart's desires realized; the moments spent wallowing near the edge of despair; the giggles that transform into guffaws of joy, and so much more. There we are. No wonder we roll our collective eyes so often at the dramatic reveal, chapter by chapter, that just doesn't seem to live up to our experiences.
As in every pursuit these ladies have endeavored, we'll keep on trying. After all, the failures are what makes the successes so insanely delightful...in print and in life. Read on, ladies, read on!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Seeing Jackie Reflected in Her Family
It's been four years since we said our last goodbye to Jacqueline Welch Fitzgerald, my mother. Indulge me for a moment as I dig out the notes I made for my mom's eulogy at her funeral mass. Delivering this was so important to me...connecting the dots from my mother to each of her nine children and sharing all that love with everyone who attended the celebration of her life. I promise its not morose...in fact, there are chuckles throughout.
I still reach for my phone to call her every day to share the silliest things...I doubt that will ever go away. Its incredible to have roots like this. Thank you, mom! Miss you every day...
****************
I’ve been told for years how much I look like my Mom, Jackie. Like all daughters I cringe a bit at the reminder, but give me a chance and I’ll point out all of Mom’s most positive physical attributes. I’ll spare you the entire list today – but suffice to say that in my eyes Jackie was gorgeous!
As my family has supported my Mom on her Journey these last couple of months I have become more aware of just how much each of Jackie’s children resembles her in some way. You see, Jackie spent her life investing herself into a legacy that isn’t carved in granite or painted on the side of a building, rather one that lives and breathes and shares itself with so many. The living organism that is the Fitzgerald Family as a collective whole resembles its creators and today I’d like to point out the shadows of Jackie in each.
In John, the eldest, we witness the leadership skills that allowed Jackie to somehow coerce a group of nine independent-minded children and one hard-working husband to fall in line and carry out her wishes – no matter how much we whined. John, by chance and by nature, is a leader and no matter the size of the burden he will always step up to the plate immediately to shoulder it. He learned from our Mom that it isn’t the width of the shoulders, rather the pillar of strength on which those shoulders rest that allows a person to accept responsibility and carry it with honor.
Through Patrick we often glimpse diplomacy in action. Jackie wasn’t the first mother to live out the “Speak softly and carry a big stick” mantra – and Pat has certainly been schooled by the best. Trust me, it is an art to convince so many members of one family that it is big fun to spend countless hours running (and getting nowhere I might add, they just went around and around!) in the hot sun and freezing cold. Somehow he turned that into not just an activity but a passion that was shared with all of the Fitzgerald boys and even some of the girls. We have often asked Pat to negotiate the tough stuff and make everything work out for everyone. As we all know, none of those requests were easy, but all were accepted and carried out with the utmost of kindness and concern for everyone involved. Just like his Mom. True diplomats.
Number Three in our Family is Marian – Mom’s first daughter. The one she dreamed of right up until she was placed in her arms after birth. I remember Mom talking about that Moment and how she had already acknowledged to her doctor that she had two sons at home and she was sure this would be a boy too, rather than the daughter she longed for. Through Marian we can witness again the ultimate dedication of a Christian woman doing everything in her power to raise her children with faith. Jackie was committed to her children and seeing them flourish and to her faith and seeing it lived out in those children. It is an amazing testament to her love that we all survived countless Sunday masses when the giggles took over and we just couldn’t stop – although Jackie could usually halt the giggles with one snap of her fingers down the pew. She always knew who the offender was – even when it involved our Dad (who was a famous instigator of the giggles at mass). I’ve seen Marian make the same sideways glance down the pew and watched in amusement as more than one of her children straightened up and faced front. And, usually I started giggling at the sight because of the memories it invoked!
My brother, Mark, shared with Mom the ability to conceive of a vision for a goal and then fight for it no matter what the barriers. Mom taught him well to firmly believe his vision was the best possible and to put in motion whatever needed moving to achieve the goal. Most often Mom and Mark had congruent visions – over the last decade they’ve shared almost daily meals and conversations to reinforce this bond. But, wow, were these two were fun to watch when they chose different sides of something! I will never forget watching the two of them build a closet at the cottage many years ago. I can’t remember the specifics about their engineering discrepancy, but Mom was sure that her plan was the right one – and so was Mark. There is no lack of self-esteem anywhere in our family and I think it is apparent that little Jackie taught Mark to believe in his convictions and support them with passion. Even when the thing you believe in is as simple as the plan for a closet at your summer cottage!
Through Greg – the middle child – we see the humor that Mom always swore she didn’t have. After all, how can you not have a sense of humor when you are juggling nine kids and countless other responsibilities? Mom always contended that from birth Greg could light up a room just by entering it. And, as the 5th child, he learned early that in order to be noticed he needed to add a little flourish to his presence in every situation. Mom often told us that she had to learn to be funny in order to fit into Dad’s Irish family. I am sure that my parents bantered back and forth till their last days together about Mom’s English sense of humor vs. his Irish one. It still makes me laugh to think about that conversation – and how funny it really was. Mom was never the one to tell a joke outright, but she sure did light up a room when she walked in – just like her middle child.
Through Steve we witnessed Mom’s unending patience – something they shared from the earliest days. In both of them we have witnessed a serene sort of calm that must only come from within. In many cases that served them both well – for instance in those months and years that Mom would bandage and protect Steve’s hand after he burned it as a very young boy. All of us witnessed the epitome of patience when eating dinner with Steve – I think he was patiently waiting for each individual green bean to digest before chewing the next. There really is no other reason for the inordinate amount of time he spent at the dinner table each night. And, in true Jackie fashion, she allowed him his space and cleared the rest of the table around him. Never pushing or cajoling (after all, the rest of us did enough of that for her!). I believe that Steven was patiently waiting for Mom to join him on his Heavenly Journey these past two years and was there by her side giving her the space she needed to finish up matters here before she joined him this week.
Everyone who knew my Mom knows that she may have been a practical lady, but that she had a truly creative spirit. No one saw this more or shared it more fully than Colleen. Both of them seem to live their daily lives in such a matter of fact way, Colleen is an Engineer for gracious sakes. But, their spirits have always been nourished and challenged by their ability to think outside the creative confines of daily life and express their spirit in so many ways. My Mom is a poet and an author. She has painted in oil and watercolor . . . and always dreamt of the next opportunity to stir her soul with something not yet tried. In Colleen she had a confidant for those dreams. I know that they had several projects in various phases of completion that today remain unfinished – but our Mom never liked to leave something undone. I believe in the tenacity of the creative spirit and know that Colleen will find every way possible to continue to flourish creatively – not for Mom, but because of her.
In Number 9 – the youngest of the clan, Marcia, we witness the thing that always seemed to be the most obvious attribute of our Mother – intelligence. Now, Mom and Dad were always proud that they raised nine intelligent, educated kids. And, sure, we’ve all got the capacity to operate on someone’s brain, but Marcia actually does it! So, before the rest of my siblings think I’m saying that Marcia is the smartest, no, but she sure does make a good effort at it! She and Mom shared a love of learning – they challenged each other with the things they read and the ideas that were inspired. Jackie always respected Marcia’s intelligence (long before college and careers) and rightfully so, Marcia always respected Mom’s. That is the key to true intelligence, recognizing it in others and respecting their gifts. Jackie instilled a love of learning in all of her children and through Marcia we can see that her years of cultivation were meaningful in every way.
My mother had spunk! She was a faith-filled woman. And, she never wavered in her commitment to her family; from her own dear sisters and her little brother, to her parents and father-in-law, and my dad’s siblings and their children – who have always been so very dear to her. And especially her nine children as that family expanded to include in-laws and precious grandchildren that she adored.
Jackie knew how to reach out to people and comfort as well as prod. She recognized when it was time to hold back her own opinion in favor of letting someone make their own mistakes. But she was always there with a shoulder to cry on and an encouraging word about giving it one more try.
I am truly amazed today at what a forward-thinking woman my mother was. She was a goal-oriented lady who never stopped seeking knowledge about things that interested her. I love to imagine that petite, little lady when she graduated from Concord High School at the top of her class and proudly marched off with a scholarship to be the first person in her family to attend and graduate from college. She never thought much about the women’s lib movement – she’d been a working Mom with goals of her own for years. She set the bar high for her daughters and her sons. I don’t remember chores in our home ever being divided by gender – the important thing was that someone washed the dishes and mowed the lawn, not whether it was a boy or a girl. Those lessons have served me well in my career and life.
The world is less bright today without Jacqueline Marie Welch Fitzgerald. But it is a better place overall because she has been here and shared so much of herself with those she loved. Jackie lost her dear husband of 50 years two falls ago. The two of them were best friends and constant companions – as well as phenomenal dance partners! I can hear the band warming up now in anticipation of those two cutting a rug. That’s exactly how I want to imagine her today. Dancing with her love . . . and singing “When Irish Eyes are Smiling.” I’m sure hers are . . . they always were.
I still reach for my phone to call her every day to share the silliest things...I doubt that will ever go away. Its incredible to have roots like this. Thank you, mom! Miss you every day...
****************
I’ve been told for years how much I look like my Mom, Jackie. Like all daughters I cringe a bit at the reminder, but give me a chance and I’ll point out all of Mom’s most positive physical attributes. I’ll spare you the entire list today – but suffice to say that in my eyes Jackie was gorgeous!
As my family has supported my Mom on her Journey these last couple of months I have become more aware of just how much each of Jackie’s children resembles her in some way. You see, Jackie spent her life investing herself into a legacy that isn’t carved in granite or painted on the side of a building, rather one that lives and breathes and shares itself with so many. The living organism that is the Fitzgerald Family as a collective whole resembles its creators and today I’d like to point out the shadows of Jackie in each.
In John, the eldest, we witness the leadership skills that allowed Jackie to somehow coerce a group of nine independent-minded children and one hard-working husband to fall in line and carry out her wishes – no matter how much we whined. John, by chance and by nature, is a leader and no matter the size of the burden he will always step up to the plate immediately to shoulder it. He learned from our Mom that it isn’t the width of the shoulders, rather the pillar of strength on which those shoulders rest that allows a person to accept responsibility and carry it with honor.
Through Patrick we often glimpse diplomacy in action. Jackie wasn’t the first mother to live out the “Speak softly and carry a big stick” mantra – and Pat has certainly been schooled by the best. Trust me, it is an art to convince so many members of one family that it is big fun to spend countless hours running (and getting nowhere I might add, they just went around and around!) in the hot sun and freezing cold. Somehow he turned that into not just an activity but a passion that was shared with all of the Fitzgerald boys and even some of the girls. We have often asked Pat to negotiate the tough stuff and make everything work out for everyone. As we all know, none of those requests were easy, but all were accepted and carried out with the utmost of kindness and concern for everyone involved. Just like his Mom. True diplomats.
Number Three in our Family is Marian – Mom’s first daughter. The one she dreamed of right up until she was placed in her arms after birth. I remember Mom talking about that Moment and how she had already acknowledged to her doctor that she had two sons at home and she was sure this would be a boy too, rather than the daughter she longed for. Through Marian we can witness again the ultimate dedication of a Christian woman doing everything in her power to raise her children with faith. Jackie was committed to her children and seeing them flourish and to her faith and seeing it lived out in those children. It is an amazing testament to her love that we all survived countless Sunday masses when the giggles took over and we just couldn’t stop – although Jackie could usually halt the giggles with one snap of her fingers down the pew. She always knew who the offender was – even when it involved our Dad (who was a famous instigator of the giggles at mass). I’ve seen Marian make the same sideways glance down the pew and watched in amusement as more than one of her children straightened up and faced front. And, usually I started giggling at the sight because of the memories it invoked!
My brother, Mark, shared with Mom the ability to conceive of a vision for a goal and then fight for it no matter what the barriers. Mom taught him well to firmly believe his vision was the best possible and to put in motion whatever needed moving to achieve the goal. Most often Mom and Mark had congruent visions – over the last decade they’ve shared almost daily meals and conversations to reinforce this bond. But, wow, were these two were fun to watch when they chose different sides of something! I will never forget watching the two of them build a closet at the cottage many years ago. I can’t remember the specifics about their engineering discrepancy, but Mom was sure that her plan was the right one – and so was Mark. There is no lack of self-esteem anywhere in our family and I think it is apparent that little Jackie taught Mark to believe in his convictions and support them with passion. Even when the thing you believe in is as simple as the plan for a closet at your summer cottage!
Through Greg – the middle child – we see the humor that Mom always swore she didn’t have. After all, how can you not have a sense of humor when you are juggling nine kids and countless other responsibilities? Mom always contended that from birth Greg could light up a room just by entering it. And, as the 5th child, he learned early that in order to be noticed he needed to add a little flourish to his presence in every situation. Mom often told us that she had to learn to be funny in order to fit into Dad’s Irish family. I am sure that my parents bantered back and forth till their last days together about Mom’s English sense of humor vs. his Irish one. It still makes me laugh to think about that conversation – and how funny it really was. Mom was never the one to tell a joke outright, but she sure did light up a room when she walked in – just like her middle child.
Through Steve we witnessed Mom’s unending patience – something they shared from the earliest days. In both of them we have witnessed a serene sort of calm that must only come from within. In many cases that served them both well – for instance in those months and years that Mom would bandage and protect Steve’s hand after he burned it as a very young boy. All of us witnessed the epitome of patience when eating dinner with Steve – I think he was patiently waiting for each individual green bean to digest before chewing the next. There really is no other reason for the inordinate amount of time he spent at the dinner table each night. And, in true Jackie fashion, she allowed him his space and cleared the rest of the table around him. Never pushing or cajoling (after all, the rest of us did enough of that for her!). I believe that Steven was patiently waiting for Mom to join him on his Heavenly Journey these past two years and was there by her side giving her the space she needed to finish up matters here before she joined him this week.
Everyone who knew my Mom knows that she may have been a practical lady, but that she had a truly creative spirit. No one saw this more or shared it more fully than Colleen. Both of them seem to live their daily lives in such a matter of fact way, Colleen is an Engineer for gracious sakes. But, their spirits have always been nourished and challenged by their ability to think outside the creative confines of daily life and express their spirit in so many ways. My Mom is a poet and an author. She has painted in oil and watercolor . . . and always dreamt of the next opportunity to stir her soul with something not yet tried. In Colleen she had a confidant for those dreams. I know that they had several projects in various phases of completion that today remain unfinished – but our Mom never liked to leave something undone. I believe in the tenacity of the creative spirit and know that Colleen will find every way possible to continue to flourish creatively – not for Mom, but because of her.
In Number 9 – the youngest of the clan, Marcia, we witness the thing that always seemed to be the most obvious attribute of our Mother – intelligence. Now, Mom and Dad were always proud that they raised nine intelligent, educated kids. And, sure, we’ve all got the capacity to operate on someone’s brain, but Marcia actually does it! So, before the rest of my siblings think I’m saying that Marcia is the smartest, no, but she sure does make a good effort at it! She and Mom shared a love of learning – they challenged each other with the things they read and the ideas that were inspired. Jackie always respected Marcia’s intelligence (long before college and careers) and rightfully so, Marcia always respected Mom’s. That is the key to true intelligence, recognizing it in others and respecting their gifts. Jackie instilled a love of learning in all of her children and through Marcia we can see that her years of cultivation were meaningful in every way.
My mother had spunk! She was a faith-filled woman. And, she never wavered in her commitment to her family; from her own dear sisters and her little brother, to her parents and father-in-law, and my dad’s siblings and their children – who have always been so very dear to her. And especially her nine children as that family expanded to include in-laws and precious grandchildren that she adored.
Jackie knew how to reach out to people and comfort as well as prod. She recognized when it was time to hold back her own opinion in favor of letting someone make their own mistakes. But she was always there with a shoulder to cry on and an encouraging word about giving it one more try.
I am truly amazed today at what a forward-thinking woman my mother was. She was a goal-oriented lady who never stopped seeking knowledge about things that interested her. I love to imagine that petite, little lady when she graduated from Concord High School at the top of her class and proudly marched off with a scholarship to be the first person in her family to attend and graduate from college. She never thought much about the women’s lib movement – she’d been a working Mom with goals of her own for years. She set the bar high for her daughters and her sons. I don’t remember chores in our home ever being divided by gender – the important thing was that someone washed the dishes and mowed the lawn, not whether it was a boy or a girl. Those lessons have served me well in my career and life.
The world is less bright today without Jacqueline Marie Welch Fitzgerald. But it is a better place overall because she has been here and shared so much of herself with those she loved. Jackie lost her dear husband of 50 years two falls ago. The two of them were best friends and constant companions – as well as phenomenal dance partners! I can hear the band warming up now in anticipation of those two cutting a rug. That’s exactly how I want to imagine her today. Dancing with her love . . . and singing “When Irish Eyes are Smiling.” I’m sure hers are . . . they always were.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
A Personal Peek at the Year in Review
Nothing prolific to spout...no karmic revelation to report...just a simple look back at a year full of joy and challenges. Keep on swimming, people.
Here are my highlights in photos:
Here are my highlights in photos:
 |
March -- Aunt Elaine and Uncle Ron celebrated 50 years of marriage, a great excuse for my mother's siblings to pose for my camera. Nice to see everyone together sharing in a joyous celebration! |
 |
| April -- Connor's first Little League game of the season with his dad as coach. So much fun to watch! |
 |
April -- A weekend with my girls in Pentwater was a wonderful way to reconnect and reminisce. Did Michele and I really meet in 5th grade and break up in 7th, yet somehow we've shared all of the most important moments of our lives together? Will Lynn and I ever experience another moment like our first road trip to Ann Arbor (cue music from St. Elmo's Fire) when the world seemed to stop as we pulled into town? Will Laura and I ever get our fantasy wish of leaving the day-to-day behind and becoming full-time country club wives (I can hear the laughter ringing all around me!)? Was it luck or destiny that when I broke my foot in college, I had a sorority sister like Jen willing to carry me on her back during goofy rush events (leave no sister behind!)?             September -- Connor's flag football team was sooooo excited to play under the Friday Night Lights during halftime of a 2010 state champion West Catholic High School game.     December -- We rang in the New Year at the wedding of my cousin, Tricia, to her love Tandem. We'd just said goodbye to Tricia's father, Charles Clark Sr., at the end of October. So, this was the perfect way to start 2011 fresh...and filled with joy! Congratulations to the newlyweds. And, Rest in Peace Uncle Chuck. Thanks for indulging me...and for reading my blog. Feel free to follow and post comments. Every writer needs their readers! Cheers to 2011! |
Saturday, December 11, 2010
His Very First Christmas
'Tis the season to decorate for Christmas at our house. Like many others, we drag out dust covered boxes of ornaments to adorn our Christmas tree. Some of these are special treasures that have been cherished for years. Others bring a laugh or make us wonder what we were thinking (let's be honest, the High School Musical locker ornament that sings was a huge mistake!).
There is always one special ornament that washes emotion over me like a tsunami. Most often leaving me breathless for a moment, gasping for air and holding back tears. I am often paralyzed with feelings that it ressurects.
That ornament is a memento of Connor's First Christmas. And, every single time I look at it, I cry.
I'm swept back to the day I realized what my child's first Christmas would really mean. I'd taken a half day off work to start Christmas shopping and catch up on life. But, first I stopped by our house and checked e-mail (keep in mind, I didn't have 24/7 access to e-mail on my cell phone at the time!). There, in the mess of mundane topics was a message from our adoption agency. New photos!
I opened the file and waited patiently while it downloaded (probably about 3 minutes, I love DSL today!). And, there he was!
I've never felt more alone in my life. My baby was going to spend his very first Christmas in Guatemala without me.
This is not how it should go. Someone else had dressed my sweet baby in a goofy Santa hat and posed him for Christmas card photos. But it wasn't me. Someone else had quieted his tears (I could see that he'd been crying in some of the other photos they sent in the group) and kissed away whatever fear he had. But it wasn't me. Someone else was going to hold my baby in the quiet of the night on Christmas Eve and sing Christmas carols softly in his ear. But it wasn't me. I wondered if he'd receive a soft little lamb or doggie as a gift on Christmas morning, snuggled in the arms of one of his caregivers. I hoped that he would, it was his first Christmas and someone should be showering him with gifts and love. But it wasn't me.
Seemingly, I had everything. I was finally a mom. I was married to the love of my life. It was my favorite time of the year, with the hubub of activity that I love. And, yet, I sat at that computer and sobbed for hours. I cradled the 15-inch Gateway monitor like it was my baby. I wiped my tears on that screen, hoping to feel the softness of his face or the squeeze of his fingers wrapping around mine. My heart was ripped completely open, savagely and without warning...all because of that photo and all that it represented.
Later, I shared the photo with everyone. I asked them to pray for him on his very first Christmas, that it be peaceful. I spent some time on my knees too, begging the God that I knew to protect him and somehow make sure that he felt our love on that magical night and every day until we finally met. After all, Christmas is all about miracles, right?
I printed that photo and put it in Christmas ornaments as gifts for his waiting grandparents. Eventually I made my way to the local Hallmark store and purchased the Spanish version of the 2003 Baby's First Christmas ornament.
And, now, every year when we decorate our Christmas tree, as I place that ornament on the branches I whisper another prayer. It is a prayer of thanks for everyone who made sure that my baby was swaddled and loved on his very first Christmas. Those people are responsible for the most amazing gift I could ever dream of, countless future Christmases with goofy Santa hats and softly sung carols in the night. And, the child who makes it all meaningful.
Feliz Navidad from us to you...may the anticipation of your blessings make them even richer.
PS -- the following year our Christmas card portrayed the picture of happiness that we dreamt of through all those tears. Yes, miracles do happen.
There is always one special ornament that washes emotion over me like a tsunami. Most often leaving me breathless for a moment, gasping for air and holding back tears. I am often paralyzed with feelings that it ressurects.
That ornament is a memento of Connor's First Christmas. And, every single time I look at it, I cry.
I'm swept back to the day I realized what my child's first Christmas would really mean. I'd taken a half day off work to start Christmas shopping and catch up on life. But, first I stopped by our house and checked e-mail (keep in mind, I didn't have 24/7 access to e-mail on my cell phone at the time!). There, in the mess of mundane topics was a message from our adoption agency. New photos!
I opened the file and waited patiently while it downloaded (probably about 3 minutes, I love DSL today!). And, there he was!
I've never felt more alone in my life. My baby was going to spend his very first Christmas in Guatemala without me.
This is not how it should go. Someone else had dressed my sweet baby in a goofy Santa hat and posed him for Christmas card photos. But it wasn't me. Someone else had quieted his tears (I could see that he'd been crying in some of the other photos they sent in the group) and kissed away whatever fear he had. But it wasn't me. Someone else was going to hold my baby in the quiet of the night on Christmas Eve and sing Christmas carols softly in his ear. But it wasn't me. I wondered if he'd receive a soft little lamb or doggie as a gift on Christmas morning, snuggled in the arms of one of his caregivers. I hoped that he would, it was his first Christmas and someone should be showering him with gifts and love. But it wasn't me.
Seemingly, I had everything. I was finally a mom. I was married to the love of my life. It was my favorite time of the year, with the hubub of activity that I love. And, yet, I sat at that computer and sobbed for hours. I cradled the 15-inch Gateway monitor like it was my baby. I wiped my tears on that screen, hoping to feel the softness of his face or the squeeze of his fingers wrapping around mine. My heart was ripped completely open, savagely and without warning...all because of that photo and all that it represented.
Later, I shared the photo with everyone. I asked them to pray for him on his very first Christmas, that it be peaceful. I spent some time on my knees too, begging the God that I knew to protect him and somehow make sure that he felt our love on that magical night and every day until we finally met. After all, Christmas is all about miracles, right?
I printed that photo and put it in Christmas ornaments as gifts for his waiting grandparents. Eventually I made my way to the local Hallmark store and purchased the Spanish version of the 2003 Baby's First Christmas ornament.
And, now, every year when we decorate our Christmas tree, as I place that ornament on the branches I whisper another prayer. It is a prayer of thanks for everyone who made sure that my baby was swaddled and loved on his very first Christmas. Those people are responsible for the most amazing gift I could ever dream of, countless future Christmases with goofy Santa hats and softly sung carols in the night. And, the child who makes it all meaningful.
Feliz Navidad from us to you...may the anticipation of your blessings make them even richer.
PS -- the following year our Christmas card portrayed the picture of happiness that we dreamt of through all those tears. Yes, miracles do happen.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!
Time to take a breather and pay homage to the people, places, and things that made my top 10 for 2010. I learned at a very young age that saying thank you isn't just customary and polite - its required if you want to get anywhere in this world. So, here's my thankful thoughts for the year...
1) Rick and Connor...of course. I'm a lucky girl to have a husband I still love, and even like, after 19 years of marriage! And, we are both blessed beyond words to share our lives with Connor, the 7-year-old whirlwind that makes us reassess every thought and action hundreds of times a day! Thank you boys...always.
2) Mobile Technology...yes, my name is Maureen and I'm a BlackBerry addict. Wow, has this little device changed my life! Clients never know if I'm responding to a business question from my office or the beach...fantastic. Yes, I could go even further down the slippery slope of mobile computing with other devices, but I'm a little fearful that I'd stop participating in real life conversations and simply resort to texts and emails even when the person I want to connect to is in the same room! Moderation, people!
3) My Little Sisters...We became a packaged deal at a very young age, our six older siblings referred to us as "The Three Little Girls." We hated that. But, we love each other. And, they don't call us that anymore...much. We can still share clothes and shoes, but most often we are sharing a laugh, advice, and lots of love.
4) CoffeeMate French Vanilla Sugar Free Creamer...finally! Love this stuff and now I can ramp down on the insulin intake to cover it. Thank you Nestle!
5) Symlin...since we're talking about that insulin intake, I need to give a 2010 nod to my new Symlin injectable pen. Thank you for making better use of my insulin intake. It triggers me to notice that I'm actually full (surprisingly much ealier than I would have imagined - guess that's why those 15 pounds have crept onto my hips over the past few years!) and encouraging more effective digestion of the food I take in. Bravo to all the smarty pants biomedical engineers who worked on this drug. You are helping to make me a healthier person...thanks!
6) NetFlix and Roku...ahhhh, the wonder twins! Thank you for combining forces and bringing so many Scooby Doo movies into my home on command and without charging me for each one. We love movies around here and that can be an expensive obsession. But, the power of technology puts countless movies and tv shows at our fingertips for no additional cost...and Connor can operate it by himself. Joy!
7) Cousins...in general, I have a huge group of incredible cousins, and I love when we reconnect. But, specifically, I'm so grateful for the trio of cousins that belong to my sisters and I. We were each blessed with one child and the three of them have shared many moments in the past seven years (give or take a few months). I'm so grateful that Connor has Ryleigh and Reagan to share his life with - even though they often fight like siblings! That's part of the package!
8) Memaw...she promised my mom that she'd be there for us even after Marcia and her son divorced, and she's more than lived up to that. Carol Nauta is an incredible example of the kind of person I aspire to be. She loves my son like her own grandchildren and makes him feel special just for being Connor. And, she offers a shoulder to cry on or an embrace of love whenever it is needed by me or my sisters. The joy on Connor's face when she surprises him at a football, soccer, or little league game is infectious and reminds me of how much we need her. Thank you, Carol. I'm grateful every day that we got to keep you in the divorce!
9) My 2001 Ford Taurus SEL...what can I say, my old Bessie may be dinged up but she's still got life in her veins! Rick and I bought out my dad's lease on this car when we were waiting to adopt Connor. At the time there was a possibility that we'd find ourselves the parents of twins and my adorable Audi A4 just wasn't going to cut it for double stroller duty! My dad serviced his cars religiously and detailed them incessantly. It was barely broken-in when I took possession. At the time I thought I'd drive it for a couple of years...and here I am! She's given us some concern over the past year, but still doesn't show any signs of needing to retire. And, its funny, but I really love her now and can't imagine myself driving anything else (well, okay, that's a lie - I've got rag top dreams, but we don't talk about stuff like that in front of Bessie, she's sensitive!).
10) Lake Michigan beaches...especially Pentwater, but really, I'm thankful for all of the shoreline! What a gorgeous treat we have here in West Michigan! These beaches are perfect for dreamers, toddlers, crazy teens, and cooler toting moms...and everyone in between. If you haven't had the joy of spending an afternoon or evening on one of these beaches, please let me know. I'm happy to show you around!
1) Rick and Connor...of course. I'm a lucky girl to have a husband I still love, and even like, after 19 years of marriage! And, we are both blessed beyond words to share our lives with Connor, the 7-year-old whirlwind that makes us reassess every thought and action hundreds of times a day! Thank you boys...always.
2) Mobile Technology...yes, my name is Maureen and I'm a BlackBerry addict. Wow, has this little device changed my life! Clients never know if I'm responding to a business question from my office or the beach...fantastic. Yes, I could go even further down the slippery slope of mobile computing with other devices, but I'm a little fearful that I'd stop participating in real life conversations and simply resort to texts and emails even when the person I want to connect to is in the same room! Moderation, people!
3) My Little Sisters...We became a packaged deal at a very young age, our six older siblings referred to us as "The Three Little Girls." We hated that. But, we love each other. And, they don't call us that anymore...much. We can still share clothes and shoes, but most often we are sharing a laugh, advice, and lots of love.
4) CoffeeMate French Vanilla Sugar Free Creamer...finally! Love this stuff and now I can ramp down on the insulin intake to cover it. Thank you Nestle!
5) Symlin...since we're talking about that insulin intake, I need to give a 2010 nod to my new Symlin injectable pen. Thank you for making better use of my insulin intake. It triggers me to notice that I'm actually full (surprisingly much ealier than I would have imagined - guess that's why those 15 pounds have crept onto my hips over the past few years!) and encouraging more effective digestion of the food I take in. Bravo to all the smarty pants biomedical engineers who worked on this drug. You are helping to make me a healthier person...thanks!
6) NetFlix and Roku...ahhhh, the wonder twins! Thank you for combining forces and bringing so many Scooby Doo movies into my home on command and without charging me for each one. We love movies around here and that can be an expensive obsession. But, the power of technology puts countless movies and tv shows at our fingertips for no additional cost...and Connor can operate it by himself. Joy!
7) Cousins...in general, I have a huge group of incredible cousins, and I love when we reconnect. But, specifically, I'm so grateful for the trio of cousins that belong to my sisters and I. We were each blessed with one child and the three of them have shared many moments in the past seven years (give or take a few months). I'm so grateful that Connor has Ryleigh and Reagan to share his life with - even though they often fight like siblings! That's part of the package!
8) Memaw...she promised my mom that she'd be there for us even after Marcia and her son divorced, and she's more than lived up to that. Carol Nauta is an incredible example of the kind of person I aspire to be. She loves my son like her own grandchildren and makes him feel special just for being Connor. And, she offers a shoulder to cry on or an embrace of love whenever it is needed by me or my sisters. The joy on Connor's face when she surprises him at a football, soccer, or little league game is infectious and reminds me of how much we need her. Thank you, Carol. I'm grateful every day that we got to keep you in the divorce!
9) My 2001 Ford Taurus SEL...what can I say, my old Bessie may be dinged up but she's still got life in her veins! Rick and I bought out my dad's lease on this car when we were waiting to adopt Connor. At the time there was a possibility that we'd find ourselves the parents of twins and my adorable Audi A4 just wasn't going to cut it for double stroller duty! My dad serviced his cars religiously and detailed them incessantly. It was barely broken-in when I took possession. At the time I thought I'd drive it for a couple of years...and here I am! She's given us some concern over the past year, but still doesn't show any signs of needing to retire. And, its funny, but I really love her now and can't imagine myself driving anything else (well, okay, that's a lie - I've got rag top dreams, but we don't talk about stuff like that in front of Bessie, she's sensitive!).
10) Lake Michigan beaches...especially Pentwater, but really, I'm thankful for all of the shoreline! What a gorgeous treat we have here in West Michigan! These beaches are perfect for dreamers, toddlers, crazy teens, and cooler toting moms...and everyone in between. If you haven't had the joy of spending an afternoon or evening on one of these beaches, please let me know. I'm happy to show you around!
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Mystery of Knotted Memories
So often our memories intertwine in a jumbled pile of emotion, smell, taste, visuals, and often music. Its rare for me to think about one singular moment and hold it with clarity, keeping it from becoming tainted by another memory or shooting off on a wild tangent that bounces my thoughts about like a pinball responding to an itchy trigger finger on the lever.
That's why the end of October and beginning of November are always a bit schizophrenic for me. The smell of wet leaves and rotting pumpkins mixed with burning wax always triggers a flashback to the phone call I took seven years ago while tricksters and treaters were haunting my street. My brother, Steve, called to share that his wife Kris was hovering near death. Waiting for a donor liver that met her needs. Today I can't put all of the pieces together perfectly, but I still can smell that crazy jack-o-lantern.
Kris needed a miracle. Steve needed to talk. We had to process the fact that someone who hadn't celebrated 40 years of life would be facing something so immense without a warning. It still hurts to remember his anguished voice, begging for a solution that seemed unreal and that I couldn't provide.
Coupled with that memory is a moment of such euphoria and joy that is seems irreverant to think about it while also remembering Kris' failing health.
Rick and I had just learned that we were going to become parents. We'd received a photo that morning via Fed Ex (only really, really important stuff comes to your home via Fed Ex, that's how we knew it was a big deal!) of a little boy, just over one month old, who still weighed only 5 pounds. He was going to be our son. How could bad things be happening when our most fervent prayer was finally answered?
I remember crying on the phone with my brother that night. Tears of joy, tears of frustration, tears that reminded us both how powerfully we cared for each other and those for whom we cried.
My moment of triumph and ultimate happiness always will be edged with the reality that when you love deeply, you risk loosing greatly.
Those memories are intimately connected to someone I've never met. I don't know that person's story -- someone whose family faced their own loss with incredible bravery. My sister-in-law's life was saved by a liver donor.
These memories are a great example of the emotional journey known as the circle of life, in my case its just all twisted up like a crazy sewing knot. If I could pull apart the threads of each memory and save them as unique thoughts, would I?
Would I treasure the joy of raising my son more if my memory of learning that he was waiting for us weren't tempered with the anguish I recall hearing in my brother's voice on the phone that night? Would I be any more grateful for the blessing of Kris' life if I could smile over it and close out the pain her donor family must continue to experience each year on the anniversary that we celebrate?
Nope. I like things messy. I'll take the jumble any day. The more knots the better...gives me more places to grab on and swing.
PS -- Spare a moment today and give a thought to becoming a registered organ and tissue donor. Details here: http://www.donatelife.net/CommitToDonation/
That's why the end of October and beginning of November are always a bit schizophrenic for me. The smell of wet leaves and rotting pumpkins mixed with burning wax always triggers a flashback to the phone call I took seven years ago while tricksters and treaters were haunting my street. My brother, Steve, called to share that his wife Kris was hovering near death. Waiting for a donor liver that met her needs. Today I can't put all of the pieces together perfectly, but I still can smell that crazy jack-o-lantern.
Kris needed a miracle. Steve needed to talk. We had to process the fact that someone who hadn't celebrated 40 years of life would be facing something so immense without a warning. It still hurts to remember his anguished voice, begging for a solution that seemed unreal and that I couldn't provide.
Coupled with that memory is a moment of such euphoria and joy that is seems irreverant to think about it while also remembering Kris' failing health.
Rick and I had just learned that we were going to become parents. We'd received a photo that morning via Fed Ex (only really, really important stuff comes to your home via Fed Ex, that's how we knew it was a big deal!) of a little boy, just over one month old, who still weighed only 5 pounds. He was going to be our son. How could bad things be happening when our most fervent prayer was finally answered?
I remember crying on the phone with my brother that night. Tears of joy, tears of frustration, tears that reminded us both how powerfully we cared for each other and those for whom we cried.
My moment of triumph and ultimate happiness always will be edged with the reality that when you love deeply, you risk loosing greatly.
Those memories are intimately connected to someone I've never met. I don't know that person's story -- someone whose family faced their own loss with incredible bravery. My sister-in-law's life was saved by a liver donor.
These memories are a great example of the emotional journey known as the circle of life, in my case its just all twisted up like a crazy sewing knot. If I could pull apart the threads of each memory and save them as unique thoughts, would I?
Would I treasure the joy of raising my son more if my memory of learning that he was waiting for us weren't tempered with the anguish I recall hearing in my brother's voice on the phone that night? Would I be any more grateful for the blessing of Kris' life if I could smile over it and close out the pain her donor family must continue to experience each year on the anniversary that we celebrate?
Nope. I like things messy. I'll take the jumble any day. The more knots the better...gives me more places to grab on and swing.
PS -- Spare a moment today and give a thought to becoming a registered organ and tissue donor. Details here: http://www.donatelife.net/CommitToDonation/
Monday, October 18, 2010
Broken Promises
It's time I out some broken promises. I've kept quiet for way too long.
I've subscribed to Fitness magazine for about 7 or 8 years. Not only does the magazine arrive in my mailbox, but I READ it every month. I feel like I'm doing my part. Yet, I remain decidedly unfit.
This isn't nonsense. I'm not talking about the lazy girls way out with the exercise videos that you watch while sitting on the couch eating buttered popcorn (who really eats that micro rubbish without adding butter?!) and sipping on a cabernet. No. I am not that lazy. I'm no couch potato!
I stand in my kitchen, near the bag of whole, toasted almonds that are a suggested snack food in my Fitness magazine, and read. I'm engaging my brain. I'm flipping pages. I'm not even sitting down!
I am not any fitter for the effort.
Seems like the perfect time to evaluate a bit of why the magazine is not living up to its promise of Fitness. Perhaps they are overpromising?
If I even remotely resembled one of the cover models I certainly would not subscribe to Fitness. I wouldn't have time to read magazines because when you are that Smoking Hot you don't read magazines, you use them to fan yourself at the beach. Good grief!
Know your audience...your subscribers are approaching deadlines like high school reunions and family vacations. We have middle aged booties and bellies. And, if we've already spent a lifetime finding clever ways to fit in squats while also flossing our teeth with "green" floss that we wove ourselves - we wouldn't need your magazine.
Also, reevaluate all of the resources you are currently using for nutrition tips. When I'm running through my kitchen (I'm using "running" here to refer to the act of crazily scurrying while dodging errant super balls and Lego spaceships that may be strewn about the floor en route to a meeting that may result in a paycheck) I DO NOT have time to "grab a handful of fresh berries and pop them into a wheat germ and banana smoothie." Okay, to be fair, I'm paraphrasing the tip. But, it was unrealistic anyway.
If I grab a handful of berries out of my fridge, first they will need careful sorting to assure that they are not covered in mold (I shop infrequently and rarely eat all of any fresh produce in the fridge, visitors beware). And, secondly, I'm in a rush. There is no time to whip up anything. Those berries are destined to be squashed all over the steering wheel of my car before I get out of the garage. Thirdly, I refuse to buy anything that is a germ, even if it is a wheat germ. Ridiculous.
Who needs these ideas that just make me feel terrible about myself?
I'll probably continue with my subscription...and maybe I'll send in some of my own snack-on-the-go ideas (seriously, who ever has a snack that isn't on the go?). Real stuff like only eating half of the bag of Baked Lays in one drive time...be fit, people!
I've subscribed to Fitness magazine for about 7 or 8 years. Not only does the magazine arrive in my mailbox, but I READ it every month. I feel like I'm doing my part. Yet, I remain decidedly unfit.
This isn't nonsense. I'm not talking about the lazy girls way out with the exercise videos that you watch while sitting on the couch eating buttered popcorn (who really eats that micro rubbish without adding butter?!) and sipping on a cabernet. No. I am not that lazy. I'm no couch potato!
I stand in my kitchen, near the bag of whole, toasted almonds that are a suggested snack food in my Fitness magazine, and read. I'm engaging my brain. I'm flipping pages. I'm not even sitting down!
I am not any fitter for the effort.
Seems like the perfect time to evaluate a bit of why the magazine is not living up to its promise of Fitness. Perhaps they are overpromising?
If I even remotely resembled one of the cover models I certainly would not subscribe to Fitness. I wouldn't have time to read magazines because when you are that Smoking Hot you don't read magazines, you use them to fan yourself at the beach. Good grief!
Know your audience...your subscribers are approaching deadlines like high school reunions and family vacations. We have middle aged booties and bellies. And, if we've already spent a lifetime finding clever ways to fit in squats while also flossing our teeth with "green" floss that we wove ourselves - we wouldn't need your magazine.
Also, reevaluate all of the resources you are currently using for nutrition tips. When I'm running through my kitchen (I'm using "running" here to refer to the act of crazily scurrying while dodging errant super balls and Lego spaceships that may be strewn about the floor en route to a meeting that may result in a paycheck) I DO NOT have time to "grab a handful of fresh berries and pop them into a wheat germ and banana smoothie." Okay, to be fair, I'm paraphrasing the tip. But, it was unrealistic anyway.
If I grab a handful of berries out of my fridge, first they will need careful sorting to assure that they are not covered in mold (I shop infrequently and rarely eat all of any fresh produce in the fridge, visitors beware). And, secondly, I'm in a rush. There is no time to whip up anything. Those berries are destined to be squashed all over the steering wheel of my car before I get out of the garage. Thirdly, I refuse to buy anything that is a germ, even if it is a wheat germ. Ridiculous.
Who needs these ideas that just make me feel terrible about myself?
I'll probably continue with my subscription...and maybe I'll send in some of my own snack-on-the-go ideas (seriously, who ever has a snack that isn't on the go?). Real stuff like only eating half of the bag of Baked Lays in one drive time...be fit, people!
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