A Deep Sense of Loss

 A few weeks after my last post, in February 2021 one of my best friends died. He passed away after a long COVID battle. He was not on a ventilator, but the disease ravaged his body over the course of three months and then he was gone. Two years later and I am still left with a deep sense of loss.

We met when I was 20 and just starting to live my life as a productive human working a 9-5 on my own. He sat across from me when I moved into a different department and instantly I was hooked. He came from a completely different background but he was smart and funny. He constantly surprised me with the things he said and the things he did. 

We started going to lunch together and we just talked. It turned out we had a similar dark sense of humor one that I didn't share with many people. It had been a rough road for me at times and the residual pain, I shared with him. He shared his with me and we laughed together about our trauma. We found a way to do that and we shared something profound that bonded us. 

He wrote poetry and showed me his work. It was beautiful but sad and sometimes haunting. I always wanted him to publish it or at least submit it but he was reluctant. I started writing too and joked he was my muse. 

Our friendship didn't make sense on the surface. He was someone all the women wanted. I was in a solid serious relationship. He was stylish and handsome. I was fat and cute. At times people thought there was more to it but there wasn't so we didn't care.

Then we started playing Madden together and it was the best part of our friendship That really built the bond that wouldnt break. He taught me all the plays and he was so proud of his protégé. We got to laugh and hang out and drink and eat lasagna from the Italian place up the street. He had very specific dietary preferences but that lasagna always worked out. Sometimes cheesesteaks.

We shared everything. I met some of his friends and family and he met some of mine. He knew Rolston well at that point. There wasn't a story he didn't know about me. I think he knew more about me than anyone ever had or ever will. 

Our story was long, more than 20 years of being there for one another. I was his girl in the suburbs who lived a different life sure but I was also his best friend. He was there for me always. He put out the broom at my wedding. He was there when Brenton was born. He was the godfather to all 3 of my kids. He came when Rolston's mother died and almost got arrested for going 35 in a 25. Bordentown was no joke.

When he was going to propose to his first wife, I met him in the paeking lot at the jewlery store to check out the ring before he did it. I was at the wedding but in the background. You see he was friends with Rolston too, but I didn't get that chance with his women, until I did.

Before his divorce was final, I met Zakiyyah. He asked me to come meet her because he thought I would really like her and he really wanted me to meet her. She was always the one that got away in his eyes. They were together in high school. And he always loved her. I think he died still loving her, but the relationship was long distance amd that was what broke it. There was more to it in the end but that was the core. He couldn't trust it because nothing good could be real. 

I loved her too for the hope she gave him and for who she was as a human. She was exactly what he needed and he was childlike in his rekindled love for her. I got to witness him being himself with her and she was so good to him. I really did think it would last and I was hurt when it didn't but I understood. She and I have remained friends and I shared much of my grief with her.

I was always surprised when he put me in front of people and highlighted our friendship to the world. I never felt like it was a secret but also it shocked me that he really and truly valued me in that way. In my heart I knew how much we meant to each other and that was what mattered.

At his second wedding, he introduced me to his estranged son who he had recently reunited with, as his best friend and although I always claimed him that was the second time he said it out loud to someone new who meant a lot to him but didn't already know me. It didn't even occur to me that less than two years later, he would be gone.

I did always know he would go first. I never doubted that. I just didn't think it would be so soon and after not seeing him for so long. It was COVID and so we hadn't seen each other since his wedding.

Gaps were usual for us and we saw each other less and less over the years. I kept moving farther away, he said. It was not an easy drive he said and Bordentown was not friendly to him and his lead foot. Still every now and then he would come through unexpectedly.

 He did one of his pop in visits and it was close to my birthday. It felt like a present and it was so good to see him. That was the last time we took a picture together. I had no idea at the time it would be a last. I guess that's what people mean when they say cherish the times you have. And I do remember that day and just laughing like no time had passed. 

That is what I miss the most is how we used to just know each other. He just knew me. One time he bought me a gift because I was having a rough time. He said, he just wanted me to know how much I meant to him and to everyone. He said I should know how wonderful I am. 

I still wake up after dreaming about him and think how I want to tell him I had a strange dream about him. I want to tell.him about the kids or even just small things. Most of all I want to tell him how much I miss him and that my life is not at all the same without him. 

He called me the day he died and I didn't answer the phone. I was putting Harper to bed and said, I will call back later. At midnight, his wife called and told me he died. I sobbed. I couldn't speak. I just sobbed and then she hung up. 

I woke Rolston with my sobs and croaked out Akbar died and then he just said oh no over and over. Both of us in disbelief.

We were still in lockdown and the kids were in remote school and the vaccines had just come out but not for us yet. So I went to see him at the viewing amd stood and looked at my best friend who did not looks at all like himself laying in a casket at 43 years old recently re-married with a young son. I was mad at him for leaving me. I felt hollow. I wanted to scream and cry, what am I supposed to do now? How can I do this without you? It is not fair.

Instead, I looked at him and thought about all the times he was there for me and that it was too many for me to recall. Quietly crying in my double masks knowing I couldn't stay for the funeral because I didn't want to get COVID and die too. It hurt. My whole body hurt being there like that and the pain didn't go away. Some of it still remains.

I said my goodbyes to him without seeing anyone because I went so early. As I walked through the doors on my way out I had my head down and some family was arriving. I couldn't acknowledge them in that moment. It was too much for me. So with a gentle nod and a tear soaked masked face, I returned to my car and slathered myself in sanitizer. My hands were stinging and I couldn't catch my breath between the tears. It was so unfair and as he liked to always remind me, life is not fair and it turns out, neither is death.

Each morning I still have to stop myself from going to Google chat to say good morning. I just cannot believe he is really gone. People talk about how they want one last chance to talk to someone or see them and I never understood until now. Not really and not with this depth of emotion. 

A part of me died with him. I will never be quite the same since the moment I knew he was gone. I have so many wishes. I wish most of all I had picked up the phone the day he died and to know what he would have said. Knowing I missed that chance is difficult and haunting. 

All I am left with is our glorious memories. Although they do comfort me and I am grateful for them, mostly I am still stuck in grief. I wonder if that will ever fade or shift. People assured me it will lessen and even a day will arrive that I don't think of him, but I can't imagine it yet even as we approach 2 years.

I loved him so much and I miss him. I am certain I will always miss him. But I was lucky to know him and have the time we did. It hurts because losing someone you love leaves pieces of you missing. For me right now, it still seems insurmountable to feel anything other than that deep sense of loss.

No Longer Confined by Fear

I have always been an anxious person. I remember as a child feeling panic wash over me my blood pumping so hard it sounded like the ocean in my ears. My vision changed as if I was looking into a tunnel and I felt like I was in a dream world or perhaps I was dying.  I was not certain but I knew I was afraid. I turned to my grandmother and asked her to pinch me because I felt like I was not real.  I saw the confusion mixed with fear in her expression and the panic escalated. I pinched my own arm, hard and my breathing began to return to normal.  The shock of the pain released me from my panic prison.  In that moment I was no longer confined by fear.

 

The fear was present and could not be named for quite a long time in my life.  The undercurrents remain.  It stems from being the child of an alcoholic.  There is an uncertainty associated with this family dynamic.  My father at the center and all of us on eggshells not knowing how the evening would progress.  Not every day was the same, but some days were not good and some days were bad. 

 

It was a functional family in our own dysfunction.  I created my own routines and put up walls of protection.  Isolation drove anxiety, but so did openness.  Finding a balance between chaos and control seemed helpful, but it never addressed the underlying causes.  The root of it all was rotten and was eating at the rest of it slowly but steadily and nothing felt right and the fear continued to grow.

 

At 17 we finally all said enough as a family and we were seemingly ready for a change.  We had so much to relearn.  I was a newborn at 17 and I was completely terrified. I should be emerging as an adult, but instead I needed to restructure my sense of everything and the journey was incredibly painful, full of anger and resentment that I had spent so long trying to push down or control.

 

Those early years were so difficult for me as a young adult and I made a plethora of colossal mistakes because I did not know how to navigate the world.  All the time I spent trying to isolate and control did not give me the tools I needed to thrive and so I didn’t thrive.  It took me a very long time to pull up and out of what was familiar while becoming my own person. I was barely making it through each day.  I was still confined by fear and also by guilt.

 

The guilt began to fade after my second full year of college and work.  Still floundering in many ways, but I was doing the work of becoming something different than I was before.  I felt more productive and that felt good even when it was difficult. Still a ball of anxious uncertainly, but I was on my own and I was learning about the world in ways I would later rely on to bolster my self-reliance.

 

So much happened so quickly that it felt like the blink of an eye.  College graduation with high honors. My first real job. Friends and colleagues and so much fun.  It was the fun I should have had in college, but I was too busy growing up and doing the hard things to make it all happen.  It was my time!  I was truly gathering the good and I felt like my career was moving in the right direction. 

 

Then it happened, 2008 financial crisis and it came crashing down on me at first. I still remember September 16 so vividly. The uncertainty came back and so did the panic, but I wasn’t paralyzed by it.  I was more resilient this time. I spent my time with positive people who were ready to face the challenge instead of hiding or running from it.  We went to lunch together, we laughed and we kept going. This was where I started to learning the importance of positivity in dealing with my own stress and letting go of toxicity that pulls me away from success.  The answers were not at my fingertips but they were more within reach than ever.

 

Just before the layoff the deal on my first house came through.  Sometimes I am at my best during a crisis and that is a learned behavior from my childhood that was reinforced by my mother.  This skill has been quite useful in life to be honest and I have gratitude even though it was born from codependence. I threw myself into the project and used the time I had to focus on the house and finding a new job. Many interviews later and after the house renovation was fully completed, I got a job. 

 

Young and confident but wiser and more stable than I had ever been I emerged into my new role. Fake it until you make it was my motto and it worked well for me.  Now more than 10 years, 3 children, a new house and a couple promotions later I am still in that job.  It looks very different than when I started in terms of what I do and the scope of the role, but I am so happy with what I do.

 

Often I say how lucky I am for so many reasons.  I do feel like that time has gone by in a flash and when I look back I see mostly the good things now.  The birth of our children, the milestones shared, the birthdays and holidays celebrated, fun with friends, pool parties, trips to the beach, trips to Disney and everything in between all have given us so much for which to be grateful.

 

There were many hard times too.  The death of my in laws 6 months apart and still at times feeling the depth of those losses.  The seizures that stole my husband’s ability to drive for a year and my sense of security for even longer.  The physical injuries he has suffered over the year that required recuperation and support.  Fertility treatments to conceive our third child. Two of our three children with different special learning needs. Life is challenging there is no question about that at all. Life is far from perfect, but we have more than enough to sustain us.

Honestly I can still say that fear and anxiety is ever present, but so is my awareness of it.  It wasn’t until I really acknowledged that undercurrent was there for me that I could begin to address the ramifications it has on me and those around me. It worsened after 2016 and then when I had my daughter it nearly consumed me.  Then I got help and went on medication that is so vital for me to find balance again.

 

Now after almost a year in quarantine I can say I am coping fairly well.  When I think of all the good things, it brings me joy. The deeper relationship my children have with my parents. Our dear friends who were able to be in our bubble with us. The friendships that have thrived in spite of distance and lack of in person contact. We have all found ways to stay connected and supportive. I started really embracing knitting and that soothes me. I am back to virtual meets with friends. My vaccine appointment is scheduled.  Power was transitioned peacefully to a new administration. Yesterday I watched the first woman, a black woman, become vice president.

 

Today I feel optimistic.  Gratitude for staying safe and healthy during this time abounds. Maybe I will actually hug people soon.  Maybe I will eat in a restaurant with my husband for our anniversary.  Maybe I will make it back to Disney World this year with my BFF and my family.  In the meantime, I will leave my Christmas tree up and my outdoor decorations will change with approaching holidays, but the lights will keep shining. Hope is back again and I am no longer confined by fear.

The In Between

For the past year and a half, I didn't write anything. I thought about what I would write but never did. I felt like time got away from me in ways I couldn't explain. My life was flying by and it wasn't bad it was just busy. It is still busy. I find myself trying to fit so many things into each day.

Whether it's two competing tasks at home or at work or three needy children who require a lot of help, I am always in the middle of doing something. Some days I feel the pull so hard I almost break. Then other days I find myself in between sinking into the love around me that the three kids bring and back again to the breaking point of the demands of it all.

In the in between a dear friend's daughter was diagnosed with cancer. My best friend lost her Poppy to cancer. Another dear friend's husband was diagnosed with glioblastoma. It was a rocky time accepting how precious life can be and how hard it can be to prioritize what is really important.

Can I be sad about a hole in my pool liner when someone has cancer? Am I allowed to feel gratitude for my family being complete when others are struggling to keep theirs together in times of despair. What do I do with all of this and how do I focus on the present? I was swirling. I felt lost and alone. It was overwhelming to manage the day to day not just in the face of the day to day but the bigger questions too.

The friend whose daughter was facing cancer helped me to help my daughter learn to sleep. The best friend who lost her dear Poppy to cancer reminded me of my own strength through hers. Still I felt so uncertain of myself and that I was being a good mother.

I joke with my friends who are mothers about it now but before I became a mother no one really explained that these feelings were common. That these tiny humans could need more at times than I felt capable of giving and put me in a place of being on the verge of tears or screaming with rage. The anger I was experiencing was actually anxiety coming out of my pores. Except, I didnt know it.

During a routine visit with my doctor she asked me a few new questions. My blood pressure was up and again on the verge of tears I explained I was not feeling the best. She inquired about sleep and the new baby I had and the demands of my life. I answered and she also asked about past history of depression and anxiety. I explained when I was younger I dealt with what I termed the darkness. I said but I am not that bad and that I did not feel like I was in that place.

She said kindly that I might not want to wait until I found myself there and to try to catch it in the in between before it overtakes me. She asked me about medication. Options in front of me, I decided to take the pill. She praised my bravery.

That same day I took the 5mg of Lexapro. Below the regular therapeutic dose, but for me it was like flipping a switch. The fear that gripped me melted away. A freedom washed over me that I didn't need to have all the answers in each and every moment. I could let go of the little things because I could finally see them as small.

In the months that followed I was able to be more present without fear and a lot of things fell to the side. I prioritized friendships and time as a family. The things that seemed less important took a backseat. I scheduled our first real family vacation. We spent time with my parents at their new house.

Still life was not fully settled. Emerson was in prek, Brenton in first grade and Harper was a baby. It was a tough year schedule wise since prek was afternoons and Harper was still taking 2 naps and Brentons schedule was very different. It was hard. Work was demanding and although the anxiety was mostly gone I was still learning to manage 3 kids and work with a new manager I might add.

Then Harper turned a year old and I had the princess party for my sweet girl. It was everything I wanted for her amd for myself. It was the pretty pink sparkly day of my dreams. She was walking and saying words and hating cupcakes. The icing was just ok and she didnt love the singing. But she was a whole year old and the day came and went.

Emerson turned 5 less than two months later. He was so proud of himself. He had a glow party at the bounce place just like he wanted and everyone said it was a great party. His best friends were there and all of his "cousins".

Then I was on the road. Nine training sessions in a month and a half. And that began my return to the working traveling mom. Travel was easy now with the lessened anxiety. I enjoyed the time away and even more the returns home. Emerson struggled with my absence the most and my mother filled the gap in between with her presence.

May brought the beginning of summer and the opening of the pool and this time with a new liner. My favorite time of the year. Work continued to be demanding but the time with the kids at home was what I needed as the routine of the year gave way to the start of summer.

The largest intern class and the most diverse ever was here and I was in Charlotte for a whole week to welcome and train them. It was everything about my job that I love. I felt grounded and competent. I wore new clothes and statement necklaces and did things that were out of my comfort zone but still within my wheelhouse.

Then it was back to facilitating one of my favorite training sessions. The feedback was positive and I heard through the grapevine that it was making a difference in day to day work. A goal of mine professionally. I felt immense gratitude for having a job I truly enjoy and that fulfills me.

My friendships were thriving. The ones I truly hold dear. The others fell to the back and some fell away entirely. I told people how much they meant to me openly. I felt good about who I chose and who kept choosing me.

Some choices I made helped me and others still hold me back. I struggle with certain aspects of being a balanced actualized human. I still drink too much wine, eat too much sugar and salt, dont work out and have a shorter fuse than I would like to have. My relationship with my husband is strained but improving. I am working on it all or some of it anyway. Priorities.

All I know is, I no longer feel stuck. I dont feel trapped in the in between. I feel comfortable in the things I do well and I am aware of my opportunities and challenges. I am empowered to work on things I dont do well yet. Best of all the anxiety that once engulfed me entirely has melted away like an early morning snowfall on a spring day.

September has arrived and the boys are in 2nd and K and finally on the same schedule or close enough to normalize our broader lives. My calendar is very full and so is my heart. I have an older son who is beloved, creative and working hard in school and a middle child who is finding his way and is so strong willed, sweet and brave and a toddler who knows exactly what she wants even when we may not. She can even tell Alexa to play baby shark.

It is not all perfect and it is not always everything I imagined but I have so much gratitude for all the wonderful people in my life and especially my beautiful family. In my opinion although I am highly biased, I am the luckiest girl in the world!

Three Months with my Three

Oh how the time does fly. People say that to me all the time and I believe them. Because no time has gone quite so quickly as the last three months with my three.

I am nearing the end of my 14 week maternity leave. I can't believe it's almost over and I go back on Monday. I am not sure I am ready but ready or not here I come. It is time and as the breadwinner I will never get to ask the question if I can stay with them full time. Just like when Harper arrived and suddenly I stopped working now suddenly I will be back working. Transitions can be difficult but necessary.

I remember when she was born there were times when the days melded together into some sort of amalgam. One long day that was a haze of nursing and sleepless nights and naps and daylight and darkness and maybe a few tears. After about a month or six weeks that subsided and the haze lifted somewhat and the new normal began to emerge.

Then there is some sort of routine to it all a routine that will change dramatically on Monday when I return to work. My husband will take the reigns again. I reassure myself that I'm ready for this but something tells me deep down I will miss it in ways I can't fathom yet even though I have done this twice before.

I am a task master. I need to complete daily activities and feel a sense of accomplishment. My job has always given this to me. When I take my maternity leave this fades away. The demands of the child take precedence over my needs. Sometimes honestly I'm left feeling lonely and anxious because I don't have my routine.

At times I created tasks for myself. Clean out a closet donate items to Goodwill. check. Clean up the mud room hang up the coats put the shoes in the bin. Check. Do the laundry fold the clothes put clothes away. Check. But none of this was really taking care of myself in a way that mattered. Still it was self care because for me this made me feel more stable during a very uncertain time.

I love my time with my children. I also love my time working. They challenge me in very different ways. I'm grateful for the lessons that they teach me. The truth is I'm better when I'm busy not burning the candle at both ends but busy.

I want to make the most of this life. I want my kids to see me be successful in all endeavors. And certainly that's not exactly possible but I will give it my all. And I will make time for them. I will make quality time for them.

It's true that with three children it is much harder than it was with one or two to find that quality time in a day. Someone always needs something or wants something. It isn't easy when I have to tell somebody no. I'm getting much better at it and they are probably better for it and so am I.

These last 3 months I've been able to do so many things  that I am not ordinarily able to do.  I take Brenton to school in the morning. I watched him walk into school. I watched him say hello to his friends and his teachers. He asked me to drop him off so he could walk the rest of the way into the building on his own. We read together. We drew pictures together. We played with play dough. We built letter boxes and made sentences. We did our nails with sparkly glittery color street nail strips that made us smile.

I waited for the bus with Emerson. For most of this time it was cold and we had to stay in the car with one another. We danced and listen to music. He really likes the song all the stars from Black Panther. Would I have gotten a chance to know this without this maternity leave? He can almost write his whole name. For month it was just an E and now he is making a near perfect R and traces the alphabet too. He turned 4 and we had a power Rangers/Cars party. We had to teach him how to be gentle with his sister. He didnt need his gate anymore. I put him to bed and he greeted me and sat with me while I pumped milk in the morning.

We went on a family vacation to Cape May. We visited my parents who have moved closer. Twice. My mother turned 70. Rolston and I celebrated 11 years of marriage and he got his first pedicure. We went to breakfast with Harper. We watched comedy specials together and laughed. Hard. We actually talked. We had time to get reacquainted as the people we are now because times have changed and so have we and in the busy times we just dont have the time to stop and ask questions about how we see the world.

Maternity leave is generally about getting to know the newest baby. But in my case it gave me the opportunity to do so many more things with the boys and Rolston too. We all got to know each other better. I took Emerson to the Nature Center we planted plants while Harper slept in her sling. I took them to swim lessons. I watched them become proficient without floatation devices. We played. We watched movies at home and in the actual movie theater. They built me towers out of legos and told me tales of Voltron and Power Rangers and Transformers. They snuggled me and gave me kisses.

Harper grew and grew and was so so loved. From a tiny baby ball of mush into a smiling engaging wonderful happy girl that she is today. Still smelling sweet like babies do but changing almost by the day. I have taken so much joy in shopping for her adorable girly pink and purple clothes and taking her out with me and watching her watch everyone. She coos. She was a champ when she got her 2 month shots. She made me think while I watched her nap when the boys were at school in the morning.

Mornings gave me time to think about so many things. During those naps I thought about who I wanted to be as a mother.  I'm not sure I ever considered that before in a meaningful way. It was a gift.  I will be able to do this more effectively even when I go back to work. I can think about ways to do things better or differently. I thought about what I want for them and how to be there for them. I thought about how I want them to know me and remember their childhood. I thought about how to be my best self for them and even thought about practical everyday needs.

After some struggles with behavior at home we set up a reward system for the boys. They earn stars when they complete certain chores or when they do good deeds. It provides them with a sense of achievement much like how my job does that for me. Instead of spoiling them with the latest toy of their dreams, I make them work for it and it means more to them in the end. So I'm grateful for this time to take a step back and apply some of the things that I've learned.

So this time has probably made me better. Yes it has been a tough transition and the tears were not always just from the kids. But with each tear was a new awareness emerging about myself. I know more about what I need and want.

I can figure out how to move forward through the fog and anxiety. It will not be easy. Raising children is hard. Being a wife is hard. Life itself is hard. It is complex but there is beauty in it all.

I am extremely grateful that I had this time to take that in whether I was always aware of it or not. And some days were squandered by keeping myself surface busy and others taken full advantage of each moment breathing it all in. I will hold these days in my heart and in my memory as the time our family was finally complete and I got to spend three months with my three.

Harper

Early on the morning of February 12 we left for the hospital while it was still dark. Papa and GiGi would get the boys off to school and as usual Aunt Monica would make the trip with us. It was a wonderful day the day we would meet you our early Valentine...our Harper!

We arrived and parked and walked back to maternity triage and checked in. It was a painless process of insurance info and other details. Then it was goodbye for now to Aunt Monica who would patiently wait while I got squared away before the move up to the OR.

There were blood tests and monitors and other things to keep me distracted and the nerves at bay. The nurses chatted with us about you and your brothers. I am not sure how many times I said your name and their names that day but I was feeling so happy. I knew you would be here soon to make our family complete.

We moved to the OR waiting area and Aunt Monica came with us while they wheeled me up. It was good to see her one more time. She is my touchstone and the one who knows everything about me. And she will know everything about you and your brothers too.

A few hugs and kisses and we were in the new waiting area with visits from doctors and signing papers and Daddy put on his scrubs. This was it. We were almost ready. Then after a short walk to the OR they tried and tried to give me the spinal.

It hurt. It hurt on the left and then the right. It burned it was sharp then they had to try again and again. It just wasn't working. I was anxious and afraid. They brought in Caitlin who was there when Brenton was born. She is and always will be my favorite midwife! She made me feel calmer. She made me laugh through the tears.

Finally they brought in someone else to try and a free 2 more tries it was done and they laid me down and Caitlin brought Daddy into the room. Dr. McCullentalked to me and so did Caitlin and told me that it was almost time and they could see you and you had so much hair. Then you emerged and I heard you cry and I cried. They dropped the drape and I saw your beautiful body and your face and I reached for you. I was filled with joy. You were just perfect.

I watched them take you over and Daddy wemt with you while they cleaned you up. They weighed you and checked you and confirmed what I knew...you were perfect. As they finished up and stitched me back together all I wanted was to hold you. We took our first family picture and then Daddy brought you to recovery to wait for me.

You were sleepy and when they laid you on my chest you inched your way to nurse for the first time. You were perfect. Your warm body against me is a feeling I felt with your brothers, but this would be the last time and it was special. That instant bond of love and admiration for my new child. It is truly miraculous how your heart can burst from an overwhelming feeling of love.

Daddy and I talked about how fast you arrived and how happy we were and how grateful we were and I suddenly noticed I could feel my toes. They took vitals and monitored you and we were both doing well. Before I knew it we were moving again.

We got to the room where we would spend the next few days getting to know each other. Aunt Monica held you and cried. She was so happy to meet you. She brought you presents and balloons. We kept telling each other how beautiful you are.

After a few hours and more nursing and more vital checks and more cooing over you your brothers arrived. Emerson was completely taken by you. He loved you with his big Emerson love right from the start. Brenton was a bit nervous being in the hospital but he was also smitten. My heart was so full watching you together. GiGi held you and Poppie held you and everyone was just thrilled to meet you.

It was one of the very best days of my life. Once again I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It was the day our family became five. The day Brenton was certain we could form Voltron. The day we were filled with happiness and awe for the tiny being that came into our lives and made us complete.  That was you, our one and only Harper!

The Last Baby

In these last few weeks I have been paying special attention to the small things. Even the things that are on the list of undesirable things that no one talks about, and that you yell at your best friend who had a baby first for not telling you abput, are somehow noteworthy. Admittedly I am one of the lucky ones who has good pregnancies with no major nausea or ailments but now this is officially it, my last baby.

As her popping bubbles turned to tickles and flutters and the flutters turned to flicks and pokes and bumps and the bumps turned to waves and rolls and stretches that occasionally stole my breath, now I wonder if I will remember when they are all gone. I love this feeling. The feeling of life is nothing less than amazing.

I remember the first time I had an acute awareness of the inportance of it all. Also my awareness in my role as well. I turned to Rolston and said...hey I am like a host. He said sternly, "Never say that again." It was in that moment I realized how foreign it is to him and how natural it felt to me all at once.

At this point I am still not allowed to refer to myself as a host but he loves to feel the movement of our babies in my belly. He smiles as he speaks muffled sentences of adoration into my stomach. When she kicks his face he smiles and laughs. This is my favorite thing and I realize the moments are limited and so I find ways to initiate these interactions as much as possible.

I sit and try to focus on the movements so I will remember. Even feeling my hips as they seem like they might actually snap in two like a wishbone on that first step after I have been sitting for a bit too long. The heartburn that wakes me. That kicked in the crotch feeling that only a pregnant woman understands. Resting things on the big huge belly and rubbing it for no real reason. These are the moments I cherish.

When Brenton and Emerson ask me about their sister my heart melts. Brenton is smitten and kisses my belly and says goodnight to his sister. He has dubbed February "Harper" month. He also likes to feel her move. Emerson is more hesitant. He has never been on his own always having had Brenton but yet he has also always been the baby. He knows it is different but can't yet say how it will be different and so he is uncertain.

I realized I am also uncertain in some ways because it is a girl and because it has been a few years. I woke up out of sleep in a panic completely confused about if babies can wear hats to sleep. It turns out Google is divided but mostly cotton hats are ok and extremely warm hats should be avoided. Also best worn for naps but not overnight.

Still I worry I have forgotten how to mother a newborn. Will I forget how to nurse her or change her? It is unlikely but the uncertainty remains so I understand Emerson and his hesitancy in many ways.

There are things that are so different from the first time around. With Brenton the nursery was completed and waiting for months. The carseat installed months in advance. Clothes washed and organized in the closet and drawers. Pacifiers and bottles sterilized but only in case of emergency. I was so nervous about becoming a mother.

With Emerson Monica and Rolston installed the carseat at the hospital since he came a bit early. The nursery was done and the clothes were washed but only semiorganized. Pacifiers sterilized and ready for immediate use. I nursed for 18 months with Brenton so I was pretty sure I knew what I was doing. Gel pads and sports bras at the ready. I felt prepared but everything was so different because he was so different.

This time I did the girly pink nursery of my dreams and that was probably the only reason is is nearly done. The carseat is new and still in the box because our old one expired. We are holding off since 3 across is tight and Brenton will be in the back in the van. The clothes are not washed. The pacifiers are not sterilized but thanks to Amazon Prime we have them. I finally got an outfit for coming home and a few options for that hospital photo shoot.

So the truth is I am ready as I can be. But as much as I cannot wait to cuddle and snuggle my sweet girl, I am also not fully ready for this to be the last of the firsts. The last first time I hear those bubbly cries. The last first time I see my husband see the baby. The last first glimpse I have. The last first latch.

I won't miss the c section recovery but it will also be the last. And the last time we bring the boys to meet their new sister in their big brother shirts. I truly cannot wait for them to see her. I can't wait to see them see her. So very many last firsts to come and I will treasure them all.

And so in these last 2 weeks I will hold onto these little moments. I will keep them all close to my heart. The last OB appointment. The last time someone asks how I am feeling and if I am ready for the baby. What will it feel like to walk into the hospital to welcome my third? A girl? How will it be different? How will it be the same? What is coming next? But for now I plan to sit back relax as much as I can and enjoy the last moments of my final pregnancy with my last baby.

IT'S A GIRL!

Almost six weeks ago my life changed forever.  One might think I would not see this moment as life changing but for me it was imprinted on my heart.  After I placed the nurse on speaker phone and she said, so you are sure you want to know the sex and affirmatively responding she said the words I never believed I would ever hear.  “It’s a girl!”

My husband screamed and ran around the house yelling Yes! Yes! like he had won the Super Bowl and I sat quietly smiling in disbelief.  I may have asked if she was sure.  I was in utter shock. It was the only thing I felt was being completely floored because I was absolutely convinced that the baby would be another boy.

Perhaps it was self-preservation.  Certainly there was a part of me that recognized there would be some disappointment if I never had a girl.  After all we were convinced the opposite with the boys.  Still in those first few moments I was afraid to believe it and yet she was.

She!  Finally after being convinced the other two were girls I finally say she and I mean she. The boys would have a baby sister and we called them in and they jumped up and down and shared in the joy with us.

And then it was time to call my mother.  The woman with an only daughter, but somehow with four grandsons would also get her girl.  After calling four times I gave up and called Monica and we squealed like crazy and I just kept saying I can’t believe it while Rolston beamed in the background imagining his new life with a daughter.

One final try to my parents and my mother was shushing me as she answered that they were in a restaurant as I loudly exclaimed “it’s a girl” and she said oh wait what a girl and then told my father it was a girl and then they no longer cared that they were in a restaurant.  My father exclaimed…we are going to have a granddaughter. Later they brought them a special dessert that said “Congrats on your granddaughter”. My mother had begun shopping in her head before dessert even arrived I am sure.

As I continued to let the news wash over me and embrace my new reality I was so grateful and so happy. That isn’t exactly news but I really felt it in those moments.  Believing that dreams come true is hard once you learn that most fairytales are not real.  After waiting a while for this baby I just wanted health the gender question was moot.  But then suddenly it wasn’t and all the things I did not let myself consider came flooding through.

All the pink and frilly princessy princess clothes.  The things I always wanted but could not have.  Oh and the nursery.  The gorgeous pink nursery filled with tiaras and tutus.  It was suddenly a dream come true the things I would get to do and to experience that I never imagined would be possible.

I thoroughly enjoyed decorating the boys nurseries.  A jungle theme for Brenton that suit him perfectly with happy primary colors and woodlands theme for Emerson with the wise old owl watching over him and the sunburst rug that he still has today. But there was something about this one being the last one and because it is for her.

Now at 20 weeks I am halfway there and it will not be much longer until we get to meet her. Constantly I find myself wondering about her. She seems fiesty. Maybe she is like me already. But she will always be uniquely her even if on occasion I do glimpse myself in her.

I have always found myself daydreaming during my pregnancies about what the baby will be like.  I am often wrong and sometimes right.  Mostly I like to think about the future and how happy they will be.  I imagine my daughter playing in the mud wearing her tiara and tutu.  I imagine her rolling her eyes at me if I share a quick story in her preteen years.  I imagine her needing me and trying not to, but me always waiting just in case she wants to talk. I imagine her on her wedding day and when she has her first child.  I imagine her looking at me like I look at my mother now, as a friend and a mother.

Then I think about all the times I won’t be able to be there for her and just hoping that I do right by her.  That I show her how to be strong and self-sufficient.  To be brave and unapologetic and really to be whatever she wants to be on her own terms. I hope for her what I hope for all my kids, that they find their way and that when they need me, I am here.

My dear Harper Elizabeth, I haven’t yet met you, but already I love you deeply.  My have you have all the love and joy and excitement in your life that I have had and more, so much more.  May you know how much happiness you have already brought me even in the weeks before the big moment when I heard the words I will always remember, it’s a girl.

Twelve weeks

Admittedly it took longer than expected but back in June we found out we are expecting our third baby! It was a long road filled with appointments and ultrasounds and bloodwork but it all paid off. Now today I reached the milestone I have been waiting for...twelve weeks.

Now I am unsure why that twelve week mark feels like the magic number for so many. After fertility treatments I am much less prepared to shout out anything of certainty. We have always wanted three children and some days this just feels like it is too good to be true. How could we ever be this lucky?

With Brenton we told our close friends and family right away and then waited for the magic twelve to make it Facebook official. With Emerson we told most people right away but still waited until twelve to shout it out. This time today is the day and I am not quite ready.

I am filled with joy and gratitude and relishing every moment. The nausea and the exhaustion all familiar and wonderful in their purpose and meaning. The aversion to seafood and the need for meat have all come back again just like the last two times.

I adore being pregnant this time. I did before but this is special. It is blissful and fills me with purpose not because I am a woman or because being a mother is so magical and agonizing and everything in between but because this baby is my last baby. This baby will complete our family of five.

Feeling the butterfly like kisses and flutters already is reassuring and familiar. I am also coming out of the nausea and exhaustion into the light again. Although now I am plagued by constant hunger as the baby starts to grow and develop exponentially over the coming weeks.

I have been working out like I did with Brenton. I took the week off this past week. Mostly it has been a source of comfort when I have been anxious and helped me feel like myself when I was having a rough time with symptoms. I just needed a bit of a break to enjoy the sun and the pool.

Now I am 12 weeks and on Monday I have my NT scan and the NIPT bloodwork. I am looking forward to it. After so many early ultrasounds it was nice to have a break from the poking and prodding.

Being almost 40 they want to keep a closer eye on me. Geriatric pregnancy now, not just advanced maternal age. What lovely terms they have. And maybe that is some of my hesitation to shout out my pregnancy even though I know so many women who have had children later in life.

Pregnancy is anxiety producing and in the world of infertility and treatments it is even more so. I see the comments of the women who have been through the ringer of several rounds of IVF and all the stress that comes with the process to hope and pray for a take home baby. Maybe there is a small part of me that feels selfish to have my third on the way when some struggle so much for one.

As I watched people in my life get pregnant and have their babies I struggled with jealousy. I was happy for them but sad for me. They had so easily what was taking a while for us and what seemed so far away. Then just when we were discussing taking the IVF step we found success.

I credit the wonderful support of the women in my online support group and one friend going through this for keeping me sane and grounded. The journey is so emotional. It is a rollercoaster. The hope the hope the hope and then the disappointment and despair and then the hope returns. That space where a line should be is the blankest white space in the world and for those who know that pain of months and months and years and years of the blank white space to see it finally turn beautifully brightly pink is a joy I now know.

Brenton was a surprise. Emerson was planned. And this baby was not only planned but it was a long hard fight and it took two years for that pink line. 

Just like like I did when I found out that Brenton and Emerson were on the way, I woke Rolston from sleep to share the news. This time I simply greeted him with a large smile and a gentle kiss and a jersey girl fist pump and high five. He was sleeping in Brenton's bed because the boys had commandeered his spot in our bed.  There ensconced in Star Wars sheets we shared the moment of knowing we were going to have our third.

So maybe keeping the news close to my heart has allowed me to really enjoy this last pregnancy in a different more personal way. Regardless I feel so lucky to be experiencing this life growing with mine. Sharing the deep connection of two hearts beating.

When the time feels right, we have our announcement ready to go. The boys are excited and take turns hoping for a brother or sister. I am convinced it is another boy and Rolston is not so sure. Either way I will be happy and we will know in about 2 weeks. Maybe then we will share the fantastic news with the world.

As I tell more and more people I am so filled with gratitude that this is my life. A smile always comes to my face and a wave washes over me that this is really happening. We have had some hard times and this baby does feel like hope and renewal. This baby feels like resistance against those hard times.

So in this moment I am happy and fulfilled and complete. It may be a milestone. It does feel significant enough to capture these thoughts on the evening of the day that marks twelve weeks.

Every Now and Again

When I share things about my life occasionally I am struck by the reactions of others. Sometimes I find that people are surprised or maybe even a bit unsettled because there is very little about me or my life that fits into a neat package tied with a societally approved bow. Usually this has served me well but sometimes I wonder where I do fit or who would really be there for me and my family every now and again.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to my youth where my racial awareness grew naturally through life experiences. At some point after having children I realized my responsibility to my children and that the world was not like me. Most people did not see the world like I did because they hadn't experienced the world as I had.

Racism is ever present and that cold truth is lonely for white people who love black people. See black people know racism but white people have to wake up to it because of our inherent privilege. The world we have created of white supremacy makes the unlayering complicated for some. To even admit it brings great doubt about how they are potentially complicit.

But the white people who love black people know it too well and it is so hard to have white people we know actually ignore our callouts of racism in our society. It is a deafening silence that splinters my soul. The likes my facebook photos receive while my pleas for their lives to matter as black boys are ignored. I am labeled as difficult or angry or over the top even by family. But how can I not mention these incidents?

My heightened awareness about a particular dilemma has been recently troubling me. It started with a post about how black people are more likely to have police called by their white neighbors. I shared the article with a personal story about how our neighbors never really welcomed us to the neighborhood and that our back neighbors had been overtly hostile after we asked them to stop shooting their illegal foreworks into our yard while our children were playing. I realized people wanted to cry for us. My point was just that this happens not that we needed to be rescued or that we needed sympathy. It also shed light that this experience is unusual for most white people.

I inadvertently started to think about all the life experiences that I have had that most white people haven't. Starting with being the only white person in a room except for the help. At one of the first family gatherings I attended it was me and the home health aide for one of Rolston's elderly aunts. I remember feeling out of place in a way that felt different than coming into a new environment usually did. As that experience began to become the norm for me that fell away but in those early days I did feel different.

Because Rolston and I were allowed to see each other at church we always went to church and so I sang songs in church youth choir like "Young, Gifted and Black" and I still know all the words to "Lift Every Voice and Sing". I listened to sermons centered on the black experience. History was focused on black history in that church and not just in February.

I also learned how to braid Rolston's hair. And not just braid but how to care for his hair. I remember braiding his hair and never once did I wonder if that was unusual until a black woman heard me tell a story about me braiding it before a concert and she said to Rolston, I can't believe you let her touch your hair. This was part of my education as well. I would not automatically be accepted by black people either.

This brings me to where I am now. I have a few good friends who I can talk to about being white and sometimes feeling like I don't know where I fit. But they are black and have their own burdens to have to reassure me seems ridiculous but they bring me deep comfort when I truly need them.

White people always give me the I am so sorry these things happen to you. But honestly I don't want them to be sorry. I want them to do something because they can and because they are part of the power structure that created the poverty stricken areas where they are afraid to go or locking their doors as they drive through, not realizing most people in those places that the power structure abandoned with white flight, are just poor and living their lives like we do but with so much less.

Rolston did not come from one of those neighborhoods either. His family was upper middle class just like mine but they had to work twenty times harder to get there. He was raised to know he had to be better to get half as far. We will raise our boys this way. I am often greeted with, you should just raise them so they know right from wrong and that is enough. They won't get into trouble. But it isn't enough.

The deck is stacked. To be clear, I don't want your pity. I will never be sorry for the love I have in my life so you shouldn't be either. It is big all encompassing love that makes me want to fight for a better world but until that world is now I will continue to talk about my life and ask for more from white people.

So I may wonder where I fit as a white mother of black children and the white wife of a black man. I may never know who really truly supports me and my family. I do know that I will keep bringing up racism until it really wakes up white people and I will probably bring it up a bit more than every now and again.

How Is This Possible?

My boys are 3 and 5 and in the fall both of them will be in school. They are getting so big and self sufficient. How is this possible?

They started life inside my body and came out squishy babies who could not even hold their heads up on their own. They needed me for everything. And now they don't.

Brenton is still my social butterfly. He wants to have everyone come over and play. He is sweet, kind and empathetic. He is truly concerned about others. He wants to help. He likes approval. Its good because everyone loves him.

Emerson is in a rough phase right now. He is really testing limits. He is strong willed. He is really brave and physically strong. He seems to live life on the edge right now just like how he stands on top of the play kitchen and looks like he might actually try to fly.

Brenton is into watching Power Rangers. He makes potions in the sink and gotten Emerson in on it too. He made the connection that when people die they go to a different dimension. I really like that notion and I am glad it brings him solace about Nanny. His complex thoughts astonish me.

Emerson can really count. I swear he can do basic math. Sometimes I think he might be an engineer or something. Both of them share a love of building. Legos bring hours of fun for them.

They play independently so beautifully. They also cooperate with one another. At times they go to war with each other and wrestle until there is a victor or someone yells for help or wails that they have been hit even if they may have actually been the one who started it. We try to be hands off with them and let them work it out independently together.

In spite of all the newly claimed independence they are both still reliant on me in some truly fundamental ways. Brenton needs a lot of guidance right now on right and wrong. He craves support. Occasionally he also needs a reminder to put his shoes on the proper feet and make sure his underwear is not on backward.

Emerson is still in pull ups and has a paci. He can't quite figure out he needs to take his shoes off before his pants and often ends up stuck and wailing about the stuckness.

Brenton ate spinach yesterday and broccoli today without whining. Emerson did not eat anything. We opted to allow applesauce and he mostly spilled that on the table for finger painting. He used to eat avocado and asparagus but now its really only fruit. How the roles change and reverse and change again.

Tomorrow we are getting a big wooden playset. I can't wait to see them playing. Climbing and sliding and swinging. Maybe they will let me help them up the rock wall. I can already hear them yelling "watch me".

All these things they do amaze me. Sometimes they frustrate me in the moment and occasionally I yell and don't understand their needs in the moment. But when I take a step back and look at our journey together as mother and sons, I am so lucky at how much they taught me in such a short time. I just ask myself how I ended up here. I am so grateful for them and I just cannot fathom how is this possible. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Self Care

For the past months I have been in full avoidance mode. Focusing only on myself, my family and important friendships to drown out the anxiety. There was a time I could participate in so many things and not feel the need to recoil back into myself to recharge. Those days are gone and now I habe found the importance of self care.

Having experienced a bit of a rollercoaster over the past few years or so I just let the ups and downs determine my mood. Sometimes I was happy and other times I was in a deep spiral of pure unadulterated misery. There was space in between as well but never constant. I never thought I needed to care for myself. In fact mostly I put myself last.

The changes to the world that made me comfortable with that cycle caused me to fully realize that everyone deserves better. I deserve better. That doesn't always mean the obvious is the best way to get better. Joy I once found in things shifted dramatically and I needed to shift as well.

Stress and anxiety had become the new normal even prior to the catalyst that caused me to turn more inward. So many people around me were also struggling and I did not know how to help them when I couldn't even help myself. My fake it until you make it strategy was failing me.

In the harsh reality that me and my well adjusted mostly happy self needed to do something differently was a bit of a shock. But the bottom line is I don't want to take out my struggles on those around me. I wanted to do something productive.

Here is a list of the things I have done differently in an attempt at self care.

1. The gym or the ultimate mood enhancer. But I quit cardio mostly because I never really liked it. Instead I do weights, yoga and old lady water aerobics. I am finding out how powerful I can feel trying something new and in public.

2. Enjoying my work travel and making it about me being out of my usual routine. In the past I let guilt about travel taking me away from the boys not allow me to fully enjoy it. This last trip I went to the gym and the pool and got a big burger and fries. I watched TV I wanted to watch and got a good nights sleep. It felt indulgent.

3. Taking charge of my desire for another baby. We have everything ready to take that to the next level. Admitting to myself how much I want this is painful at times but much needed so I can fight for it. If I don't do everything I can, I know it will fill me with regret.

4. Buying myself and others just a few fun things and really creating an experience in some cases. Retail therapy can be really soothing. In the beginning I focused on active wear for my gym obsession. I have splurged on the kids and Rolston and even my friends at times. For our 10th anniversary we are going to NYC and seeing Hamilton and making a full weekend out of it. In October I am taking the bestie to see Bette Midler who she adores in Hello Dolly. It has brought me great joy to make people including myself truly happy about something we will share.

5. Giving new things a shot. I am not a reader. My ADD has always made it harder for me to keep focus. I am easily distracted by shiny things and interesting people. So I tried audio books. I have gotten some really useful parenting strategies and learned new things in general. I also got into a design app that I love, a few new Netflix shows and embracing meal delivery services. The last one was a flop but I tried. I felt good about trying. We are going on our first real family vacation next week. We usually just go to my parents or they tag along on a work trip but this is 4 days at the beach for spring break.

None of these things have taken me away from my true self but rather enhanced it. The new approach allowed me to experience old things in a new way and new things from a place of comfort. I desperately needed a fresh perspective. And the truth is sometimes I find myself overscheduled and underappreciated and feeling spent and anxious. That is the time I try to find something that allows me to take just a small moment for a little self care.

Tough times

It has been a difficult few months since the world has turned upside down. We have been through so much personally and yet I was wildly unprepared for what came to pass on November 8, 2016 for me, for my family not to mention the country and the world. All I can say is it has been tough times.

I cried. I sobbed. I still cry frequently because I do have a deep fear. It rests in the pit of my stomach. It rests in my heart and in my mind. It unsettles me daily at different times. Daily I feel my blood run cold or my stomach turn when the president speaks. To say it is unchartered territory is an understatement.

To be very honest I have been in avoidance and self preservation mode because feeling fundamentally unsafe is not familiar. My husband is so much better at all of this. He is black. He has felt this his whole life. He is direct tweeting. Part of me envies him and another part feels a great sadness at the depth of what he has had to endure to be so comfortable.

For me it is fundamentally different. I knew this feeling only by association from those I love...until now. Now I do not feel safe either. I want to run. Planning my escape is also part of my privilege. I know this and for those who choose to not acknowledge this privilege...well its still there regardless.

There is a constant borage of unfettered craziness from the highest office in the land. Words like facism, alt right and white supremacy are rolling of the tongues of the mainstream media more often than I care to acknowledge. As a person who likes to face things head on, I am more than deeply troubled by the state of the nation, I am terrified. Trying to avoid it is impossible. Trying to accept it is impossible. Trying to live with it is impossible.

I call my representatives. My mother is marching. My friends are too. My church is also. And we have doubled down on our social and racial justice work. We are reaching out to our friends who are like us...different but strong in our activism.

You see we are liberal elitists. I am not ashamed of this because it means we want better for all. We do not condemn those who cannot pull themselves up we instead want to help lift them up. We do not want people to needlessly suffer. I am proud of my stance and my belief that the collective is what is important over the individual.

I will never know what it is to walk in someone else's shoes. Trying to understand the "other side" is difficult to say the least. Empathy has always driven me and helped me choose the path less traveled but most valuable. I would not trade it just like I would not have traded a second Obama term for Romney just to avoid this here and now.

I hope the intellectuals are correct and that this is the last gasp of the fearful traditionalists who wish to preserve something that never truly existed. Hoping they are correct is also bolstered by the knowledge that my sons are not the only tomorrow people. Mixed race children are on the rise more and more and more. They are the future. They do not it have to dream it because they are here.

But the truth is as I watch white women march in safety wearing pink hats carrying signs that proclaim pussy grabs back, I am skeptical. I am wary. White people are not to be trusted and especially white women who unabashedly supported their own oppressors in the voting booth.

Fear has enveloped me because I no longer believe in the decency of others. My inability to believe that people are inherently good is holding me back. My primal scream is stifled in the face of uncertainty.

The only questions that remain is can I rise above this? Will I find my footing in the midst of it? Can I find the good again and trust in the basic human decency that has sustained me my first 39 years? Will I come out better? How can I get people to join me in the fight? And finally, will we all come out changed in a positive way if we all can do more than just make it through these tough times?

The Things I Want To Say

On any given day there are probably thousands of things that cross my mind. Some I keep to myself with purpose. Others I say out loud. I write down a few, but every now and again I am struck by the things I want to say, but don't.

There are so many things I want to say lately. More like so many things I want to shout. And I dont. Frequently I am called loud. I am even referred to as confrontational or even a bitch. I embrace this and yet still there are so many things I don't say.

I lean in. I also listen deeply. I am strategic, forthright and bold. I am loyal. I am thoughtful, spiritual and caring. I am funny. I am an intellectual and a member of the liberal elite.

But for all the things I am, I still do not say certain things that may make me seem unkind or bigoted. You see I fight for social justice. I fight because it's personal to me. Equality, equity, truth and a world without prejudice are vital and at times I feel might just be unacheivable.

The unachievable piece is because people do not understand their own interests. They seek things that do not exist. I do not call them stupid, but I certainly use the term misguided and uniformed.

Change is incremental. It does not happen overnight. It never has. Take a look at racial justice. Civil rights for all is still illusive. Women still make less than men for the same jobs and black women far less. There is a clear discrepancy. Progress is slow.

We live in a world of instant gratification. Technology makes this phenomenon even more potent. Want a pizza, order online and it comes to your door in minutes. Want a date, create an alluring profile and the suitors flock to you. Want to play a video game, go Pokémon go. Want a 60 inch TV, line up at Wal-Mart on black Friday and trample others for your piece of the pie. The list is endless.

For those of us with time and money we have a luxury and privilidge to be critical. We can think this all through. Not working long hours for little pay and trying to keep your family fed gives you the ability to be critical of more than what you see right in front of you. The immediacy of need is less immediate.

I will argue that the liberal elite who have been made the villian as of late are the very people who are sitting back and trying to figure out ways to help people. The policies they support that advocate for higher minimum wage or universal health care are for the inherent common good.

We want nothing more than for the coal miner to be cared for or retrained for jobs that support our changing needs as a global economy. But certain things are no longer a viable option and rather than empty promises of reverting to a bygone era we want to move forward but not just for the sake of change itself, but again for the common good.

There is a deep want for people to feel needed and appreciated and for those who want jobs to have them and make a living wage, but the dirty secret is that the richest of the rich may not want that for others because having an underclass keeps them richer. Since the existence of humanity, rich people have sought to keep poor people poor and make them feel like it is their own fault for being poor. At each turn the super rich hold back opportunity and at the same time extend a portrait of an unachievable dream. It's older than the tale of time itself.

And so I will say it. I am angry with the people who can only see what is only right in front of them and what matter only to them. I am angry with the evangelicals who have allowed the moral code to be hijacked by a political party. I am angry with all those who did not think about the long view for our country and our world. What scares me is that they did think about it all and just didn't really care. They just want what they want despite the broader impact. That is what truly frightens me. Selfishness.

So there, I said it before the year came to an end. I got it out of me. I realized no good can come from me staying in my own bubble on this one. I said the things I want to say.

Goodbye 2016

This year. An emotional year. Some awesomely amazing, some good, some not so good, some bad and some downright awful. So you will see I am not sorry to see it go, but I am also sorry to see it go. Tomorrow we say goodbye 2016!

The year began as it has for so many years with us at the beach. We spent the holiday in NC with my parents. Rolston was mending from his shoulder surgery after his second seizure. Still we all managed to have a good time and it was unseasonably warm and lovely.

In January, we asked for help. Rolston was still not driving thanks to the second seizure that happened only 8 short days away from being cleared and so our dear friend Stephanie came into our lives. An angel sent our way to bring balance, levity and delicious nutritious food. And thus began our year of developing deep and meaningful friendships.

By February we had a routine established and we embraced our new normal. My boss was extremely supportive and so many good friends to help us all when we needed it. We also had my parents to help. We are grateful for all we have and for the people who uplift us when we are feeling low.

It was hard. Really hard, but not too bad and definitely not as awful as some of the places we have been. And as winter began to thaw in March we glimpsed spring. Spring brings hope. Spring brings warmth.

It was April and I was away for work. My parents came to make sure all was well. It was Emerson's 2nd birthday when I was away. It was difficult. I felt guilt but when I returned we celebrated him!

In May, it happened. Good! Rolston got his license restored. A whole year after the first seizure. It was a breath of life. It was pure joy. He was back baby!

June brought the return of the pool. The pool means BBQs, friends and fun. We were really trying for a third child.  Everything felt refreshed.

We made a snap decision to host a French exchange student in July. Best decision ever. Paul was amazing! We got so lucky.

In August, Brenton took off his floaties and swam. He jumped off the diving board. He was so free. Emerson was trying to keep up, but was not there yet. It was still good. It was still summer our favorite time of year.

September arrived and we held on to the dream of summer for a long time. Our final pool party was the second Saturday and was wonderful weather. I could not let go and when the cover went on the pool the shift began.

In mid September things got more serious. School had started and routines restablished. Then Nanny died at the end of the month. She was our matriarch and although it was time it was so very sad.

In October, weeks began to feel like months. The election was looming with debates and town halls and so much media coverage. The mood was ominous and I responded. My monthly girls night officially began with appetizers, desserts, signature drinks, tarot card readings and pictures by the Halloween tree with our Halloween headbands.

I needed a way to be in touch. I wanted to feel connected as the light faded and the days got shorter. I had no idea how dark it would get, but my girls, my strong and empowered, smart, beautiful, amazing women, and although I did not know it quite yet, would keet me going.

In November it all came crashing down. It sounds dramatic because it was. Hot tears stinging my eyes watching all hope slip away, I watched it happen on November 8, 2016. As blue turned to a sea of red, at 11pm I went to sleep and woke up with a start just in time for it to be official. A Trump presidency was reality.

I sat in Brenton's room because he was already in our bed. As I watched the speech, I was stunned and not stunned. I was sick to my stomach. I was utterly and deeply afraid.

There was nothing about what was happening that felt real except the fear. I had to pinch myself. In all honesty it felt like the aftermath of a panic attack in its surrealism.

Facing both my liberal elitism and my anger at a nation that felt like it was rejecting me and my family on a fundamental level, left me feeling empty. We contemplated leaving. We considered where we should go. We made real plans.

Instead of packing bags, we leaned on our friends. We relied on the relationships we built with other blended families, gay friends and families and other people who felt at risk to hold ourselves together. Also our church vowed to stand up for us if it came to it. We were supported.

I deflected my deepest fears in order to work. Self preservation kicked in at the end of November. I had things to do. Life happens.

We had Friendsgiving at Stephanie's. Our first and it was a true blessing. It was food and framily. And we also celebrated Brentons 5th birthday.

That same week we celebrated his birthday as a family and had a lonely Thanksgiving, but on that day we decorated for the holidays. Decorating made it better. The lights and the beauty gave me hope again in the darkness.

So I did what I do and I moved ahead. I doubled down and kept it positive. I traveled for work even though I had a cold. I delivered training and felt good about myself for making it happen.

When I came home on December 1st, the prep began and I shopped and shopped and kept the Yule in Christmas as best I knew how. Then the following Friday, it was time for the monthly girls night holiday party. What a party it was. I relished in the smiles and happiness. It felt good to be so happy even if it proved fleeting, but thankfully it wasnt. It was the start of the beginning of the end of the end of a tough year.

Before I knew it was off to NYC for a final work trip before the official holiday vacation. During that mid December trip, my dear friend who I normally get together with was supposed to be away and instead his flight was delayed. We had drinks that turned to dinner and left me feeling not just physically but emotionally sated. He is a true gem and a kindred spirit.

As I left the city bound for home I was stuck in traffic and saw snowflakes fall. They reminded me that no matter how much I want to be in control, I am not. Life goes on. The world turns whether I grant it permission or not.

We left for the holidays at my parents later that week. We had a great Christmas. The boys were so happy. We all were and now we are at the beach again.

We have run and played and built castles in the sand. Rolsron and I have had time alone together. Tonight we sang happy birthday to Poppie as we do every year. It marks the end of our time together and the coming of the new year.

Tomorrow as the waves roll into the shore we will say hello to 2017. The new year I feel dread for as we watch our beloved black president leave office and be replaced by a deplorable excuse for a human. In 2017 I will go to Dallas, NY, Charltotte and London for work. We will watch our oldest start kindergarten and our youngest start preschool. We cross our fingers that we might get lucky and welcome a new baby. We hope to continue to strengthen the bonds of friendship. And most of all that it will not be as bad as we fear it could be. So it is with a hopeful yet somewhat heavy heart and bittersweet relief and cautious optimism that I look forward and also back and say goodbye to 2016.