The Dance

My brother will never dance with my mom at his wedding.

It’s weird how that is one of the things that resonates so strongly with me.  That thought first hit me when my mom was laying in the hospital during her last days, and it has come back to me often.

A moment.  That will never be.  Lost.

I’ve cried for that lost moment many times.  

Dancing with Joe at my wedding

My brother, Joseph’s relationship with my mom was very different than mine.  They didn’t talk every day.  They drove each other simultaneously crazy.  My mom with her hovering, my brother with his fierce independent streak.  They both struggled to be able to give the other what they needed.  

But they loved each other in the purest of  ways.  Fiercely.  My brother with the fiercest of loyalty and my mom with the fiercest of heart.  The two of them, beacons of strength.  So different but so the same.  

When my mom died it was Joseph that I worried the most for.  He’s the strong silent type keeping a lot inside.  A rock.  His silent sobs at her burial were my undoing.  My already broken heart shattered.  The weight of all the moments that would never be turned me inside out.

My brother will never dance with my mom at his wedding.

That sentence paralyzes me.  It is the very essence that haunts the inner corners of my heart.  A worry so deep I don’t know how to break its hold. 

Because,

I am a mom.

I have a son (I have two sons).

I will dance with them at their wedding. 

Get a Grip

May.

May is just a hard, stressful month for me.  There's a lot of good in May, but it all seems to be overtaken by my mom's death.  It hangs over me and the month sucks the energy right out of me.

Compound that with three weekends out of town, over 70 hours in the car with two toddlers, cleaning out my parent's house and a really heavy workload.  May has kicked my ass. 

To cope, I gave up taking care of me.  When something had to give, I gave up my time to walk.  When my emotions took over I gave up counting points in return for the comfort of a glass (or two) of wine and not-so-good-for-me food. 

It felt good in the moment.  But today I'm feeling sluggish and a wee bit depressed that I let things get this far away from me.  So I went and bought a cookie. 

Yup -- My name is Amanda and I am an emotional eater.

But I felt like crap.  And that cookie tasted like crap.  And you know what, that cookie didn't make me feel any less crappier so I threw two thirds of it in the trash.  It's time for me to get a grip.  There are only a couple more short days left to May and I need to get myself back on track.  Enough wallowing.  Enough giving into the stress.  Enough letting the depression take over.  Enough Enough Enough!

I need to take hold of things again and thrive on that feeling of accomplishment when I loose a couple of pounds.  Thrive on that pride when I meet or exceed my training goals for the week.  Thrive on taking care of myself not just catering to my downtrodden emotions.  I need to put my focus on making my body strong and healthy because when I was doing that my mind felt healthier and stronger.

So even though it's hot as hell here today, I'm going to refuse to make excuses and put my miles in.  And I swear I'm not going to pull that cookie out of the trash :-). 

Letting Go

When my mom passed away she left a lot of stuff.  A LOT of stuff.  Too much stuff!

I knew my mom had an affinity for garage sales and TJ Maxx and Marshalls and specialty food stores and Lord and Taylors and well you get the picture.  She liked to shop.  It was something we all knew.  It was something we would tease her about from time to time.  But I don't think the full magnitude of her shopping sunk in until she was gone. 

I spent this weekend cleaning out my parent's house.  Trying to get it ready to sell.  Trying to help my Dad get out from under the weight of the house.  Trying to get myself out from under the weight of that house.  Clearing out that house has been a daunting and seemingly impossible task.  On Saturday we filled up a second dumpster and then continued to fill dozens of trash bags full of items to discard and items to donate.  I threw away hundreds (probably thousands) of dollars of out of date food.

I cycled between laughing at my mom, yelling at my mom and crying for my mom.

You see, I don't think my mom liked to shop, I think she needed to shop.  I think shopping was her coping mechanism.  I think when she felt lonely or sad or frightened or frustrated she headed out to buy something. 

In so many ways, my mom and I are alike.  We are both planners (that like to procrastinate in execution) we both like things a particular way and expect everyone else to fall in line.  We both look for ways to control our life in a World that seemed uncontrollable.   And we both have anxiety.  I know my mom had some anxiety.  She voiced some of it to me, but I don't think I ever realized, or she ever realized the magnitude of her anxiety.  I think it was greater than any of us ever understood. 

And it makes me sad.  It makes me sad to think that this strong vibrant woman carried this unspoken weight.  A weight that manifested itself in stuff.  Clothes and makeup and perfume and china sets and table clothes and jewelry and roosters (oh the roosters).

I wonder if the weight of all the stuff ever made her suffocate or if it usually brought her comfort.  I wonder if she really was filling a void in her life with stuff.  That's what it looks and feels like today.  And that thought brings tears to my eyes. 

For the last couple of years I have had a hard time letting go of my mom's stuff.  I have felt like I was betraying her, or being wasteful, or throwing pieces of her away.  But I'm coming to recognize that this stuff is not the part of my mom I want to hold onto.  This stuff is just that, stuff.   And it's the stuff that represented a part of my mom I think she hid from the World.  A secret struggle she didn't really want anyone to know about.  And I hate the stuff.  I hate it for what I think it represented to her, I hate it for the weight it carries for me and my family.  I hate it and I want it gone.  This weekend it wasn't as hard to throw stuff away.

I feel kind of guilty writing about this - like I'm sharing too much of my mom, but I think it's important to share.  It's important because I've come to realize even the strongest women have a chink in their armor.  Even the strongest women have problems.  Even the strongest women need help.  And I wish with all my heart I had known and would have talked to my mom about it.  Listened to her.  Helped her find the help she needed.  Helped her face and shed this weight.  And I hope, wherever she is, she is finally rid of it. 

Enough is Enough

I am lucky to have a lot of mommy friends - or friends that are moms.  Most of them I knew long before the idea of kids even crossed our minds.  They are all amazing women, amazing friends and REALLY amazing moms.

Some breastfed past their baby's first birthday, some struggled to make it to the 6 month mark, some struggled to get started - watching their baby loose weight - and agonized over turning to formula rather than put their baby's health at risk, and some decided that breastfeeding wasn't for them. 

New moms do what new moms do and share their struggles looking for support and understanding and compassion and advice.  I was surprised at what a struggle breastfeeding was, pretty universally, across the board.  And what makes this even harder is the pressure that society puts on new moms.  The constant messages and images that define what a "good mom" looks like, what a "good mom" does.

I've watched this pressure turn logical, brilliant, strong women inside out.

The pressure turned me inside out.  With both of my babies I was determined to breastfeed until the 6 month mark.  But with both of my babies my supply plummeted when I went back to work.  I exhausted myself pumping and feeding around the clock, while working an intense full time job.  I snuck in extra pump sessions at work, gave up my lunch break, pumped in the car on the way to and from work and dissolved into a mess when I would come home and still not have enough for the next day of day care.

Every time I added formula to a bottle to make up the difference I felt like a failure.  I felt like I was doing it wrong.  And at the 5 and a half month mark with both babies, I sobbed as I made the decision to move exclusively to formula.  A decision that was right for me, my sanity, my marriage and my kids.  But that decision made me feel ashamed, made me feel like I wasn't doing the best I could, made me feel inferior.

Where the hell does this pressure come from?  Why is doing the best you can not good enough?  Why do we as moms feel like we have to compete with the best of every other mom or some ideal defined by society?

And breastfeeding is just one of the many many many topics that invoke this self doubt.  Cosleeping, sleep training, baby wearing, organic baby food, homemade baby food, cloth diapers, working, staying home.

It has to stop!  We are creating a generation of moms that constantly judge themselves against an unrealistic ideal.  We are creating a generation of moms who feel like they don't measure up.

There is no "one size fits all" guide to parenting.  There is no formula on how to do it right.  Parenting is not black and white, right and wrong.  Parenting is knowing your baby and trusting your instincts.  Parenting is trial and error and finding what works for you.  Parenting is a journey down a path that winds and splits off in many directions.  Parenting is making the best decision at that moment, celebrating when you took the right path and course correcting when you made a wrong turn.  Parenting is loving, beyond all else, parenting is loving. 

I wish my mom were here so I could ask her if she struggled with these same doubts.  If she had the same nagging feeling that, despite everything she did, she just wasn't doing enough good enough.  Is this just a side effect of being a mom or something else?

Regardless of the answer, there is one thing for sure, the media exploits this desperate need to be the best mom for our children.  They prey on our insecurities, our doubts, our gut wrenching instinct to do everything we can to give our children the best we have.  And to that I say enough is enough.  We are good enough.  In fact, we are better than good enough!

This week - It's hard!

This week is hard.  

I'm trying to find the words for where I am right now but I'm at a loss. 

The memories of three years ago haunt me.  They feel more real right now.  

Three years ago. 

It feels like an eternity and a second at the same time.  It feels like forever ago that I last got to hug my mom.  It feels like ages since I heard her voice.  And at the same moment I cannot believe everything that has happened since I lost her.  All the moments she hasn't been here to share.  And I still reach for my phone to call her on my way home at night.

And I get angry.  So so so so so so freaking angry that she got robbed of these moments.  That I got robbed of these moments.  And sad. And tired. 

I'm not going to tie this post up with a pretty bow.  Find some big life lesson or attempt to have insight into my emotions.  Sometimes you just need to be mad.  And sad.  And tired.

Yeah, this week is hard!

Emily's Question

I recently wrote this post over at Merelymothers.  Emily left a comment and asked me to write about how I got through the toughest times and if I have any tips or ideas for facing such a loss.  Emily shared that her mom has been diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimers Disease.

Emily, if you are reading this, first let me say that I am so sorry that you and your mother have to face this.  And thank you for reaching out.  Loss is such a hard and lonely process.  It's so very personal and no one will ever experience loss the exact same way you will.

I cannot begin to understand the emotions you are feeling.  The loss of my mom was, in comparison, sudden and unexpected.  It was acute on every level.  I didn't have a long time to to think about what was to come.  To play the future over in my head.  I can only imagine that the anticipation of what is to come is overwhelming and all encompassing. 

I think it is important to put out there that I am by no means an expert in grief and loss.  Personally, I don't think I have necessarily faced the loss in my life all that gracefully.  I don't think that I have done it right.  So I feel completely unqualified to be giving advice. But I have spent an enormous amount of time reflecting on where I am and where I have been and there are some lessons I learned and some things I have worked on that I will share with you.  These may (or may not) resonate with you or anyone else who has faced loss but they come from my very personal grieving experience.

Be kind to yourself.  This is something I have struggled with in life.  I have always been very critical of how I handle situations - I was the same way (and still am) when dealing with grief.  It is OK not to be OK.  It is OK to give yourself the space and time to deal with your emotions, what ever they are, in the moment.  Don't judge your process - because remember, grief and loss is personal.  It is your journey, don't compare it to anothers, don't expect to follow a prescribed path.

Take care of yourself.  Physically.  Grief and loss is hard on your system.  It will wear you down.  Exhaust you.  Eat.  Sleep.  Even at the worst of times, things felt more manageable after a good night of sleep. 

Take care of yourself.  Emotionally.  I am a huge (HUGE) proponent of therapy.  There is nothing to be ashamed of in getting professional help.  A good therapist will be able to help you verbalize and navigate your feelings.     

Everyone else around you will be grieving and dealing with loss too and they will not deal with it the same way you do.  I remember when I lost my mom all I wanted was to reach out and to latch onto someone else.  I wanted someone else to love me the way my mom did.  I wanted someone else to understand me the way my mom did.  My first realization was that no one else around me was capable to doing that because they were processing the loss of my mom as well.  They were stuck in their grief.  The second thing I realized is that you can't avoid grief simply by replacing the lost love.  There is no replacement. 

Similarly, I had to give space for others that are grieving.  It's not a pretty process.  People facing loss are necessarily selfish.  Their whole being is encompassed with how the loss is affecting THEM.  I found that my capacity and the capacity of those around me to truly understand how others were affected was simply not there.  It is so easy to get into the "I loved her more" "I miss her more" "the loss is the worst for me" game.  When you feel yourself going there, or see someone else going there, take a step back.  Those feelings are real, but they can be hurtful.  Grief is hard enough without it being a competition.

Embrace small moments of happiness.  Oh, I remember how guilty I felt when I first felt joy after losing my mom.  I remember how hard it was to reconcile grief and joy.  But those small moments of happiness are so important for the healing process.  They start as tiny little glimmers.  Don't ignore the glimmers.

Sit in the grief.  Don't run from it.  It will find you.  Cry.  Cry hard.  Cry ugly.  I had to hit the bottom to start climbing back up. And I hit it time and time again.  It's  OK!

Grief for me has been a two step forward, one step back process. Slow progress.  I start feeling like I am coping and things are much much better just to fall down again.  It happens.  It happens a lot.  I think it's OK.

Something my therapist told me (remember I'm a big fan of those guys): I may have lost my mom but she lives inside me.  She is part of me.  And because I carry her with me she lives on.  As long as I love her, she lives on.  As long as I continue to be the person she raised me to be, she lives on. There are days that sounds like such bull shit.  But on other days I have found immense comfort in that. 

And I'll end with this - I have found it simply amazing just how strong the human soul is at the moment it feels the weakest. 

I have only now started to be able to connect with the experiences others have had with grief and loss.  I have only now begun to see little ways this awful terrible thing has made me stronger and more resilient.  In a millisecond I would give all that strength and resiliency back to have my mom here but I guess what I am trying to say is even though it feels like it never will - it does get better.  Even though it feels like you never will - you will laugh again.  Even though it feels like you can't do it - you can.  You will.  I did.  I am.

She's Up then She's Down

My mood swings have been epic this last week.

 I'm like a total Katy Perry song.  Have I ever told you that Sam looooooves Katy Perry.  When he was a new born California Girls could get him to stop crying. Now his favorite Sesame Street video is the banned Katy Perry video (Yup, hand over that Parent of the Year award)!  Anyway, where was I.

Oh, yes, my mood swings.  One minute I'm on the floor playing with the boys, the next minute I'm curled up in a ball crying.  One minute I'm laughing, the next minute I'm ready to take someone's head off.   Related to my mood is my absolute lack of patience. 

Lack of patience + mood swings + two toddlers = FAIL

I know that I'm going to have these stumbling blocks, these moments where I slip backwards.  But I don't want to.  Yesterday the boys were playing together.  Like really, laying on the ground both pushing trucks around, playing together.  And the sun was coming in the front window and I was all warm and glowy.  Because it was all just so perfect.

And then the sadness started to creep in.  It just started tugging at me, trying to pull me out of my warm and glowy place.  I didn't want to go.  I didn't want to give into the sadness because it was just too wonderful where I was.  So I pushed back against it.  I fought to stay in the moment, but I had already lost the moment.  I ended up in this weird kind of purgatory, straddling the joy and the sadness -- both pulling me in opposite directions -- both making it impossible to fully give into the other.   

I know I'm going to have these moments, days, weeks.  I know that grief is a process.  I know that it will probably be with me in some form for the rest of my life.  But I only have so many glowy moments and I'm sick of giving them up to the grief. 

And when I am being stretched to my limit by my emotions I struggle with my moods.  I become snappy and short fused and all the things I don't want to be which makes me frustrated which makes me more emotional which makes me more moody.  Anyone else exhausted?

And Just Like that I'm Right Back Where I Started

I am going up to NJ next weekend to help clean out my Mom and Dad's house.

Honestly, since my mom died it's so hard to be there. 

And despite how well I think I'm doing on a day to day basis I feel myself slipping as the weekend gets closer.

This is hard to write because I feel so guilty for feeling this way.  I feel like I should be in a better place by now.  And I worry that these feelings will hurt my family's feelings which is the last thing I would want to do.

My anxiety is taking over.  The weight of what needs to be done to get my parent's house ready to sell is suffocating.    I know I need to do it.  I know I need to be there.  It's just so hard.  Three years later it is still so hard.

And As I was walking today I realized that it was just about three years ago that I raced up to New Jersey to be with my mom as she lost her battle.  And it's all too real, too close, too raw. 

It's always been hard - going home.  This time seems especially hard.  Maybe it's because I'm starting to feel better.  Maybe it's because I have found a way to find a sense of peace.  Maybe I have held New Jersey at a distance to protect myself.  No, I definitely have held it at a distance to protect myself.  And to go back there will bring those feelings back -- the feelings that I have been able to move past for the most part.  The thought of slipping back into the grief, the sadness, the anxiety, the helplessness has already exhausted me.

Am I my own worst enemy for anticipating this?  Why can't I just go?  It's one weekend.  I get to see my dad and my brother and the rest of my family.  Why can't I just embrace the good?  Why am I letting the anxiety seep in?  I hate that I feel this way.  I hate that I put this off until I can't put it off any longer.  I'm so frustrated with myself.  I feel like such a baby!  

How is it that I feel the loneliest and the most isolated when I am there?  I feel the most vulnerable when I am in the place that holds the best memories of the past, the place where I am surrounded by those that have always loved me.  I miss feeling like I am going home.  I miss feeling like I am safe.  I hate that I can't get back there. 

Seeking Inspiration

A couple of weeks ago I spent some time adding new bloggers to my twitter feed and daily reading list.  One has cancer, one's sister died, one is a recovering addict, one is a struggling single mom, one's husband is on deployment.  The list goes on.

As I thought about this the other day my initial reaction was - gee Amanda, you seem to be spending a lot of time reading about other's misfortunes.  And I contemplated stopping.  Was I looking for others who felt despair?  Was I comparing my struggles with their struggles?  Was I looking for a reason for my heart to ache? 

I really wasn't sure why I was spending so much time with these strangers and their "problems."  I even downloaded a book last night written by a man who lost his mother, wife and 4 year old daughter in a horrific car crash. 

But as I was reading through my list of current favorite blogs this morning I realized something.  These are not blogs about despair, or the depths of human sorrow, or raw pain  These are blogs about overcoming that despair and sorrow and pain.  These are blogs about digging deep into your soul and facing some of the hardest moments.  These are blogs about resiliency and hope and faith.  These women and men are putting themselves out there, exposing their most vulnerable moments and sharing little glimmers, little moments of truth, little moments of strength.

When I first lost my mom I was too overcome with grief to even hope to find glimmers of truth or strength.  I was too jaded to have hope or faith.  But now, now I'm searching.  The wounds are not as raw.  The grief isn't as palpable.  And I'm searching to connect.  To connect to others' journeys.  To see the good that has come out of grief and loss and pain.  To know that there is something beautiful that can blossom from devastation.

 Lately, I've been grappling with how to bring meaning to my mom's death.  How to honor her in my daily life.  How to not let her presence in my life, and now lack of presence fade into the past, become an "event" in my life.  I'm scared that by moving past the devastation, that all encompassing grief, that I'm moving past her.  And I struggle with finding a way to hold her in the present.  I don't have an answer for this.  I've done grief and despair for a long time.  But I don't know what comes next.  I don't know how to do the next phase (whatever that phase is).         

I think this is why I'm drawn to the lives behind these blogs.  I think this is why I keep seeking out others who have faced difficulty.  I need to know how they do it.  I need to see how they do it.  I need their inspiration And their moments of wisdom and truth are helping me navigate my way into whatever lies ahead.

I Interrupt this Regularly Scheduled Blog Post

I'm pretty excited about today! 

Why? You may ask.

Well, because I'm making my guest blogger debut over at Merelymothers.

I've been totally loving having this outlet to pour my heart into.  It's helped me process, helped me stay honest with myself, motivated me to keep training and generated a fair amount of donations for breast cancer research.  So when the opportunity to share my heart with another audience came I was both excited and kind of petrified.
It's pretty safe here.  Most the folks that read my blog know me.  They send encouraging words or at least bite their tongue when they don't agree with me.  Venturing out into the bigger blogging world is a little bit scary.  Kind of like starting a new job or going to a new school.  Not knowing if anyone is going to like you or want to sit with you at lunch or pick you for their kick ball team.  But most good things come when you stretch outside your comfort zone.  So stretch I will.

Merelymothers was created by a group of stay at home mom's as a place to share their thoughts and recommendations and support to other mom's.  One of the founding members, Dawn, has been a friend of Matt and mine for a long time and I've loved watching her little girl grow!

While I am not a stay at home mom, I think there are so many things that connect us as mothers regardless of your status as a domestic goddess or working warrior.  We face many of the same challenges, conquer the same obstacles, celebrate the same triumphs.  We are all MOMs!  And this sisterhood of motherhood and womanhood is just what I am celebrating today over at Merelymothers.  So head on over there and check it out.  
--Amanda

A Moment of Clairty

Today I was driving back to my office and was overwhelemed by the beauty around me.  The clarity of the world.  The wonder of nature and spring and cherry blossoms and bright blue skies. 

And I realized something, I haven't felt this wonder about life in general in a very long time. 

I'm in awe of my kids and there are days that their sheer existence brings me joy I didn't know possible.

But that feeling of being one with the World -- of feeling present and grateful of that presence has alluded me for some time. 

Today it felt like I took off a pair of tinted sun glasses and for the first time all the colors came into focus.  It made me catch my breath and marvel in just how much beauty there is. 

And in that moment I gave thanks.  I gave thanks for my life, for my husband, for my babies, for my family and my friends.  I gave thanks for the cherry blossoms, and the warm sun and the blue sky.  I gave thanks for what I have and the ability to go after what I want.

I can't really explain it adequately but I felt whole and full and it was wonderful.  I smiled and I laughed and I inhaled deeply.

Things are coming into focus and I'm seeing the colors again, in all their wonderful vibrancy. 

Unwelcome Memories

It's been a while since a memory has snuck up and smacked me across the face.

It use to happen all the time.  I think it was my brain's way of processing something that it never imagined having to process.

What on earth are you talking about Amanda?

When my mom got very sick I rushed home to be at her side.  We didn't know how long she had.  Hours? Days?  No one really knew but we knew it was BAD.  Very very bad.  I spent the next 2 weeks at her side in the hospital.  There were some good days.  Days with progress.  Days where she was with us and laughing.  Good moments.  Moments where hope broke through.  But there were so many more bad moments.  Moments I would replay over and over and over and over again in my head.

I could smell the hospital for months.  I would wake in my bed having spent most the night thinking I was sleeping in a chair next to my mom.  My brain wouldn't let it go.  My brain tormented me with images and words and sounds and smells I never wanted to think about again.

But eventually it did give me a break.  It did let go.  And those memories flooded my senses less and less and less.

Now, it is rare that my mind goes back to the hospital unless I have willed it to.  It's rare that it catches me off guard.  Very rare.  But when it does it can knock me off my feet.

This morning I was in the bathroom straightening my hair.  Something I do every morning.  Nothing was unusual.  Nothing was special or unique about today.  It's not an anniversary of anything.  Just and ordinary Friday morning getting ready for work.

Then bam - I'm sitting in the hospital lounge surrounded by my family while the oncologist helped explain why it was time to move my mom to hospice.  We had already made the decision but I had asked the oncologist to come make the case to my family.  I knew I wasn't strong enough to answer why we made the choice.  To look my family in the eye and tell them it was time.  I needed someone else to do that heavy lift.  I needed someone else to convince them it was the right decision.

And I was stuck there.  I was stuck looking around the room at the people I loved as we had this awful conversation.  I was stuck looking at the hospital cart with the coffee and cookies the nurses provided for us -- for this awful conversation.  I was stuck looking at that ugly hospital furniture that was somewhere between sky blue and mint green and just UGLY.  I was stuck curled up on one of those chairs hugging my knees to my chest and crying.

Matt came upstairs and the sound of his footsteps broke through and I was free.  Blotchy faced, teary eyed but free.  I've found myself going back there today.  To that moment and wanting to know why?  Why did that moment surface?  Why did my brain go there this morning?

And so I wrote it down.  Because over the last couple of months I have discovered that if something is bouncing around inside my head, writing can help set it free.  Writing can help put it to rest. 

Maybe one day I'll understand why my brain does this to me.  Maybe one day I'll have a better way of coping with it.  But for today I'll just write.

Faith, and God, and the Meaning of Life - Where do I Start?

One of the things I've really wanted to work on lately is my faith.

I read this post today.  She talks about always feeling carried by a higher being but not knowing how to help someone get there.  And I get that.

In my life, I had always felt carried, protected, loved, understood by something higher.  For me that something higher was understood through a Roman Catholic context but for right here, right now I'm just going to call it something higher.  Something external from myself and from this earthly world.  And this higher power carried me through a fair share of hardships, things that challenged me emotionally.  It was a rock I held onto when the rest of the World didn't make sense.

But then 2009 happened and that feeling of being carried disappeared.  I felt betrayed.  Hm, maybe worse.  I felt like maybe there was never anything there to begin with.  That maybe this feeling that I was carried, loved, protected and understood by a higher power was not grounded in any truth.  Because if there was something there and it really did understand me, how could it possibly take away my mom -- so young -- so quick.  How could it do that to me?  How could a higher power that truly knows me and understands me and wants to protect me and carry me hurt me so badly.

And so for the last few years I have been struggling.  Well maybe that's not exactly true because for a while I just gave up.  I didn't care.  How can you struggle when you don't believe?  But this is something I want to put back on the table.  I have babies and I feel like I owe it to them to figure out where my faith is.  One day soon they will be asking questions and I'll tell them I don't have all the answers, but I owe it to them to seek those answers because that is what I will tell them to do.

Still, I don't know how to go back.  Where do I begin to rebuild this  relationship?  How do I start?  It's like a really bad breakup and what was said and done is just too bad, too hard, to forget.  It lingers and the hurt lingers and it's like poison.  I feel like I'm on really shaky ground and I don't know how to get a foot hold.

To the Parents who Taught me About Love

Today is my parent's wedding anniversary.  The day that joined the two people who shaped me into the person I am today.  I tend to worry about my dad on ceremonial days like today.  But the one thing that the last few years have shown me is that my dad is stronger and more resilient than I ever thought possible.  So today, instead of worrying I am going to take a few moments and honor the union of two of the people I love the very most in this World. 

I wouldn't say my parent's marriage was always easy but it was always honest and it was always grounded in love.  It set the example for me of what a relationship, a partnership, a family should be.

There was compromise and compassion, teamwork and communication.  They complimented each other - my mom's fiery and outgoing personality with my dad's more understated dry wit and charm. 

When they would get dressed up and leave us with a babysitter for a night out I swore they were the most glamorous people in the world.  My mom with her high heels clicking on the tile floors, lipstick freshly applied, perfume in the air.  My dad in a freshly pressed shirt, hair perfectly combed and the cologne that always made him smell freshly showered.  The picture of a perfect young couple. 

As the years passed and I grew up some of that shine faded away and I got glimpses into the every day or their relationship and the glamor was replaced by something even more amazing -- unconditional love.  Love in the face of struggles.  Love in spite of adversity.  Love for each others best attributes and the others ability to see beyond the worst. 
 
I am grateful that these are my parents.  I am grateful that they believed in each other.  I am thankful that they constantly choose love, no matter how hard it could get.  And I am grateful that they let me see their marriage at its best and hardest moments.  They taught me that two is better than one, that love is worth the work, that even when things are hard the climb back to the top can be the most rewarding.
 

The Scary Side of Being a Parent

Last week I heard that an eighth grader in my town, someone's little boy, took his life.  As a mom, the mere thought of this tares me into pieces.  It makes my heart ache for that child, for that child's parents, that child's family.  It scares me to pieces that something can make a child feel things are helpless, hopeless. 

Then today I read this.  And Oh. My. Gosh.  Being a parent is so frightening.  I looked at my little monsters tonight, whose lives' are entrusted to me, and realized that right now this is the easy stuff.  I've stumbled through the last 2+ years in various states of exhaustion covered in spit up and snot and who knows what other bodily fluids.  I've rocked and burped and nursed and fed and bathed and clothed and rocked and cuddled and rocked these babies into the wee hours of the night (morning).   I've worried about fevers and coughs and sniffles and bumps and ultrasounds and blood tests.  And they have returned this outpouring of love with giggles and babbles and snuggles and coos and I love yous.  All of this has been the easy stuff. 

What lies ahead, that's the hard stuff.  How do I teach them that hope exists even in the darkest moments?  How do I instill in them self confidence and resiliency?  How do I teach them kindness towards others, empathy and compassion?  How do I make sure they know that no matter what - NO MATTER WHAT - their mom and dad are there for them, love them and can help them through anything they face? 

There's no guide book for this and despite my best efforts I tremble thinking that I might get it wrong.  Or worse, that I'll get it right but it won't matter. 

I Have an Accountability Problem

I have accountability issues.  I like shortcuts -- ones that no one but me need to know about.  No one but me needs to know that I ate that one (two, three -- OK 4!) cookies.  If I put this one purchase on my check card Matt never needs to know about it.  Eh, who will know that I took the short route instead of the long route on my walk. 

I'm pretty sure this is why the only workout regiments that have ever worked for me have been in structured settings.  Swim team, dance class.  I'm an incredibly proud and competitive person.  If there are other people there, gosh darn it I'm going to do it all and do it all well.  But put me on a regiment where I'm the only person who is keeping track of my progress and all resolve goes out the window.  Hello shortcuts! 

I realized this today.  (Yeah- I'm quick -- only took me 33 years)

My team mates had other plans today so I packed the boys up in their stroller, filled up my water bottle, grabbed my iphone, and turned on the MapmyWalk app.  Off we went.  I knew the general route I wanted to take but didn't know the distance but I set off for a planned 3 mile walk. 

As I was entering my neighborhood I took a look at my phone and saw I had only walked 2.2 miles.  The internal debate began. 

I should just head to home.  It would be close to 2.5 miles.  That was good enough.  No one would know.  It's almost three miles.

But I caught myself.  NO!  No, Amanda!  You are training and if you are ever going to be able to complete the 3 day you need to be honest with yourself.  Yup, if you keep going there is going to be another hill -- just take it slow.  If you keep going you may get a blister from that spot that is rubbing weird in your sneaker but that's OK -- you need some blisters now to help prepare your feet for the 3-day.  If you keep going . . . what?  You keep going!

JUST. KEEP. GOING.

The kids are content.  The sun is shining.  You aren't on a schedule.

JUST.  KEEP. GOING.

And you know what, I did.  I headed back out into the neighborhood, straight for the big hill.   And when I pulled the stroller into the drive way I had clocked 3.3 miles. 

So yes, I have an accountability issue and I need the help of everyone to keep me honest.  So as my training kicks into gear I am going to start posting a weekly wrap up of my training. It'll be an opportunity for me to track my progress and journal any challenges or successes I've encountered. 

Here's to accountability!

Time for a little Evaluation

Every so often I go through a phase of assessing where I am in life and things I'd like to do to make me a better me. 

I'm going through one of those phases.  Maybe it's the fact that I'm about to start a new job and the idea of a fresh start professionally has me examining the rest of my life.  Maybe it's the fact that Will is now a toddler and I can start thinking more coherently again.  Whatever the reason my brain is swirling with things I want to do - things I need to do. 

Become a healthier me - Yup, that tops my list.  I should be ramping up my exercise as training for the walk really kicks into gear.  I need to make this a priority in my every day!  I've also been sort of kind of doing weight watchers for the last few months.  No more of this kind of sort of.  Time to be serious and all in.  If I bite it, I will write it.  There's so many other things that fit into this category I could dedicate a whole blog post (or series of posts) about the things I want to implement to help me become a healthier me.

Learn to take better pictures - This is something I have wanted to focus on since Sam was born.  I want to capture our life.  Document the beauty (and chaos) of our every day and our special days.  I've been reading up on blogs and learning how to actually change the settings on Matt's DSLR.  Check out a recent pic I took in manual mode (a huge personal accomplishment).  I want to keep playing in manual and learn how to spot meter and learn how to digitally process.  I've been really enjoying ClickinMoms as a resource.  I have a steep learning curve. 

Take Time for Personal Reflection - I've been struggling with my faith and beliefs since loosing my mom.  It's something I am very aware of but have continued to push out of the way.  I just haven't had the energy and frankly for a very long time I was too mad, too raw to even try to work through what is in my head, heart and soul. I have been spending a lot of time reading a certain blog by a mom who talks a lot about faith and divinity and grace.  She doesn't do it in a preachy way but she weaves her thoughts on these big issues through her posts about her every day.  I find them beautiful and inspiring and they make me want to start the long process of rebuilding a relationship with faith.  I need to make time for this.  My faith use to be a huge anchor in my life.  I miss it.  And I think I need it, but I've been too hurt to just blindly return.  I need to work on this relationship and see where it goes. 

Focus on My Marriage - Matt is my best friend.  My rock.  My true love.  But in the swirl of the every day and the chaos of our kids I feel like I forget to recognize him.  I forget to honor our relationship.  I want to be more mindful of this.  Be more present in our marriage.  He deserves it.  We deserve it.

In a World where there is never enough time, I think it is important every once in a while to take a step back.  Evaluate. Prioritize.  Adjust. 

What things do you need to make room for in your life?

What is My Purpose?

I started this blog 3 months ago.  It coincided with me signing up to participate in the 3-day.  I originally thought it would be a place to update folks on my training and fundraising progress.  It's that.  But it's become so much more to me.  It's become my place to share my thoughts, on my mom, on my kids, on being a mom, on the walk, on life.  It's become my little space to share me with whoever wants to listen.

When my mom was alive she always talked about one day writing a book.  She had life experience and she wanted to share it.  I kind of feel connected to this goal of hers when I write. 

If you know me at all you know that I'm type-A and very much want to be successful in whatever I put my effort and energy into.  Lately I have been struggling with what success for this blog is.

Is success being open and honest about what is in my head and heart?

Is success sharing my mom with my family and friends?

Is success generating support for my efforts to erradicate breast cancer?

Is success growing an audience and becoming a recognized voice in the blogging community?

I have to admit, lately my mind keeps taking me to that last definition of success.  I keep comparing myself to other female blogers I follow: @heirtoblair, @jennandtonica, @babyrabies, @momastery (all of these are wonderful writers who entertain and inspire me on a daily basis) to name just a few.  I envy the volume of comments they get on each of their posts.  The companies they partner with.  The give aways they sponsor.  Their wit.  Their honesty.  I envy their audience.  I'm kind of sort of jealous that I didn't go to Blissdom or Blogher.  I wonder if my words matter to anyone but me.

And then I wonder if I should care.  Am I writing for recognition and to be liked or am I writing for me?  I'm not sure I know the answer to that.

And then today, as I was having this very dialogue inside my head a tweet came across my twitter feed:

@SthrnFairytale: Never compare your beginning to someone else's middle - @jonacuff #Blissdom

It's kind of exactly what I needed to hear  read today.  So while I'm still not sure what my purpose is - I'm going to continue to write and be true to myself.  Maybe that is what my real success is.

A Birthday Wish for My Mom

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday. 

How I wish you were here for me to say that to you. 

I wish you were here to share this day with Will - celebrating your 59th year life and Will's first year.  Oh, how I know you would have loved sharing your big day with this sweet child. 

Mom, thank you for helping me become the woman I am today.  Thank you for teaching me that no matter how hard things get, there is always a reason to look to tomorrow.  Thank you for teaching me to use my words and my writing to express what is inside my mind and heart.  Thank you for making me "strong like bull."

Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a mother.  Thank you for being the example of the parent I want to be.  Thank you for teaching me that being a mom is about kissing booboos and setting boundaries, reading stories and teaching manors, giving room to soar while being a soft place to land.  I walk in a big shadow, but there is no one else's shadow I would want to walk in.

I miss you every day of my life - I miss your voice and your laugh and your hugs -- I miss you!   

I see you in Sam's stubbornness and determination and Will's spirit.  I wish they had the chance to get to know their grandmother the way I knew her.  But don't worry mom, your grandbabies will know you.  They will know you through me and everyone else that carries you with them.

I miss you Mommy.  Happy Birthday!

Don't worry.  I haven't forgotten about Will.  His letter will be posted later today.

It's an Emotional Week

The emotion of this week just hit me.

Excitement over the celebration of the life that came crashing into my world a year ago.  It's hard to believe that my Will is going to be one.  That he is straddling the line between infancy and toddlerhood.  My baby is so quickly following in his brother's footsteps and becoming a little boy.

And grief over a celebration that will never be . . . God I miss you mom!

Bittersweet.