Awakening



Morning Light by Anna Razumovskaya

I didn't know I was asleep. My life felt dreamlike-fuzzy around the edges. I felt happy and content, but with a mildly acidic undertone of something more sad, or lonely, or fearful...something that could never quite be identified and was so subtle that it almost felt imagined.  Perhaps it was fear of more- more pain, more of the same, more of the past, more of something I couldn't handle, more sadness for what I would never have.  Perhaps it was fear of less-having less, being less, accepting less, owning less of myself.  It was all very wispy and quiet and when I sat still and listened, I couldn't hear it.  I couldn't hear anything but the whispers of other's dreams that I couldn't distinguish from my own.



As I start to wake, I lay lazy and content, ready to receive.   In the space where sleep and awake mingle, I am still in the mist, letting what is true be revealed to me with the sun. In the past, I would have strained to see with my eyes.  In my forcing, I would mistaken the grayness for something more concrete and I would have called it truth.  Now, I wait as the truth shines through the kaleidoscope of reality and wishfulness. I let the colors dance on my skin-I let them change me, warm me, brighten me. In the space between sleep and awake, I am peaceful and whole.  I can hear the whispers, and they are my own.

Things I lost in the Flood

Tsunamis are odd things.  They start as a disturbance that happens deep under the water.   The movement is slow at first, gaining inertia through the reconstitution of it's own energy, creating slow, long waves that almost appear harmless.  Miles away, unassuming bystanders have no idea what it coming.  There is no storm, no explosion, no breaking of levies, no crumbling of  mountains...there is nothing to signify the impending danger. The sun still shines on the day of a tsunami. Videos of tsunamis often show the victims staring at the large rolling waves, their brains unable to process what is different about the sea.  They stare into the blue, searching and scanning for something-but the same blue waves answer back. It isn't until the floods start to sweep away the structures that have been present for decades that the brain registers the danger. And it is only after the floods recede that everyone returns to survey the damage.

Years ago I experienced a small disturbance that happened deep under the water.  I didn't notice the quiet rumble or subtle shift in the sediment...and yet, it was already moving, changing, growing.  Cut to the present day, I am drenched, gasping for air, and returning to the scene to make a list of the things I lost in the flood.  I surveyed the damage and found that my family, the love for my husband, my career, my education, and my will were still intact.  Here is what I lost in the flood:

1.  My sense of style.  For the past three years I have either been pregnant, nursing, or trying to get pregnant.  I have gained weight and retained water, making me look puffy and lumpy.  I was limited in exercise and forbidden to diet.  I didn't want to spend money on clothes because I might get pregnant again and wouldn't be able to wear the new clothes.  I gave up shopping, accessories, and shoes.  I replaced high heels for tennis shoes and comfortable boots. My designer jeans were tucked away in place of yoga pants and stretch jeans.

2.  My beauty. I gave up all skin care regimens, certain hair treatments, waxes, and manicures and pedicures because of the potentially harmful effects on the non-existent fetus.  I forgot how powerful, put together, and beautiful I felt when I took care of my looks.  As the waves grew stronger, my personal sense of style and beauty began to erode.  It etched my face, dulled my skin, and snuffed out the spark in my eyes, leaving gritty pools of grey underneath.

3.   My sexuality, passion, and fertility.  See above. It is hard to feel sexy and desirable when feeling fat, lumpy, dowdy and old.  My sense of womanhood is intricately intertwined with my sexuality and fertility.  The power of the tsunami ripped them apart from each other, leaving notches and scars where the three had grown as one. Although my fertility perished in the flood, my womanhood and sexuality have remained, temporarily weak, but with a renewed sense of strength now that they have been freed from interdependence.

4.  My smile.  Not the face smile I give everyone, but the smile that happens from the soul and shines outwards,spreading joy and happiness regardless of whether the face smile is present.  It's the smile that doesn't require any effort and that takes my breath away every once in awhile.

5.  My sense of adventure.  I used to be the kind of person who loved to try new things, go new places, break the rules a little, and jump out of bounds every once in awhile just for the thrill. I delighted in creating my future.  Then the tsunami happened and  I became a slave to schedules, to needles, to the unknown.  The future stood still, just waiting for me.  I stood still, waiting for my future.  We stared at each other, paralyzed, waiting for someone to make the first move. 

Last night, as I scrubbed away the soot and the salt and took stock of what was lost, I also started to rebuild. I remembered how to walk in high heels, let the smile shine through my eyes, and remembered how it felt to feel sexy, stylish, and whole.
 
As with any natural disaster, there is much to be rebuilt...and yet, like with any natural disaster, there is an unwavering spirit and a sense of resilience that is revealed.  There is new growth, new developments, new hope, new beauty.

While much was lost in the flood, fertile ground has been left behind, ready to birth a new future, ripe and colorful with possibility.

Little Dreams

Little One,
I have dreamt about you for years.  I can't tell you how many nights I have laid in bed, my hands on my  belly, willing you into existence-or how many times I sat in the silence of my car, thinking of you, almost sure I could see you and feel you growing.  I dreamt of our life together.  I dreamt of you with you brother and sisters, laughing and running around the house.  I have spent countless hours laying on the couch, daydreaming of how you felt in my arms, the smell of your warm milkiness stuck on my skin.  I could see your round pink lips sucking in your sleep and your pillow hand curled around my finger.  I saw you  growing in my belly.  I felt you kick.  I saw you sleeping in the stroller.  I saw your first steps.  I saw you learn to talk, jump, run, and skip.  I saw the day I dropped you off at daycare.  I saw your first day of preschool and your first loose tooth. I saw your sisters hold you and your brother kiss you. My littlest one-I have wished for you so hard that I almost forgot you were just that-a wish, a hope, a dream, a whisper.

Today, I am so sad because I have lost you...not one, not twice, but three times.  You were growing inside me and then you weren't.  I blame myself for  for not being strong enough to hold onto you.  My head knows differently, but my heart still hurts.  I have lost you so much more than that-every month for two years I was sure you were with me, and every month I have mourned the loss of you.  But today, today is the worst because I not only mourn the loss of you-but I mourn the loss of the possibility of you. 

Littlest one, know this-I tried so very hard for you. I wanted you more than anything and I would continue to feel pain and loss for months on end if I knew that eventually I would get to hold you in my arms.  But sadly, the doctor said that isn't possible. I am so sorry.  I am sorry I am old and my body has failed you and your dad.  I am sorry for the life I can't give you or your father.  I am so sorry that my best just wasn't good enough to make it work this time.  I am having difficulty getting over the fact that I have lost this battle.  My body is sore and tender from the anger and frustration that is richocheting inside.  I hate losing-I also know there is absolutely no point in battling God.

Time will move on and you will become a shadow in my heart.  A shadow that I hide with light and glitter because I am afraid of the dark.  I will move on and be happy and live and love and appreciate the gifts I have-but I will always be sad that you weren't able to grow up with me. 

My love for you is great, and I am so sorry it just wasn't enough.

A Love Letter to My Husband

Everyone talks about what love IS.  Weddings almost always include the words, “love is patient, love is kind…”  Greeting cards, posters, and books are filled with what love IS.  Rarely do people talk about what love isn’t.  And yet, I find that the absence of certain qualities is exactly what makes true love different from all other variations of love.  Most people who are in love can point to some example in their lives that supports what love IS…and yet, their lives are also filled with free radicals that eat away at the healthy love and secretly birth cancers that crowd out what is good.  For some, these cancers will be maintained, causing only mild sickness and discomfort.  For others, it will take over until every space where love used to be is rusted and rotted.

True love is the absence of certain things.  It isn’t that two people work to eradicate these things; it is that true love creates the absence of oxygen for these things to live and grow in the first place.  Here is what true love ISN’T:

Judgment: This is the little and the big things.   Judgment hides in little statements that are written off as “just kidding” or “no big deal.”  It ends in “you are too sensitive.” It is veiled by jokes and eye rolls and chips away at the identity and worth of someone else.   Judgment lies in what is said and unsaid and it speaks to how we view each other.  It feels harmless, and yet is perhaps the most cancerous of the ISN’T’s. 

Keeping Score: Love understands the natural ebb and flow in life.  Love ensures that everyone’s needs are met when they need to be met.  It understands that as long as each party is putting the other first, everyone will always be cared for and will feel safe and supported.  Love doesn’t have memory capacity to keep score.  It doesn’t remember inequalities of yesterday, first because it doesn’t have the capacity to view it as an inequality, and second because it is busy making sure everyone’s needs are being met today.

Fear: Fear of losing love.  Fear of being judged.  Fear of not being enough.  Fear that revealing the “true self” will make the other cringe. Fear creates cancer in the heart and the mind.  It causes misperceptions and misunderstandings.  Fear creates the urge to attack in order to protect and hide vulnerabilities.  True love identifies vulnerabilities in the other and helps to protect those vulnerabilities from the outside world instead of using those vulnerabilities to win an argument or hold as collateral.

This seems like an odd love letter to my husband. And yet, before I met him, I didn’t understand that love was not only the presence of certain things, but the absence of other things.  I didn’t understand the power of love to grow and flourish, to be happy and strong.  I didn’t understand how to nourish love and how to protect against the free radicals that hide in the environment.  I would like to thank him for showing me true love.  I would like to thank him for showing me how to love, fully and completely, without fear, judgment, and scorecards.  I would like to thank him for the abundance of beautiful memories of those in existence and of those yet to come.

 Happy Valentine’s Day.

New Beginnings

As many of you know, this isn't my first blog.  I had another blog, fourfunmommy.blogspot, in which I followed my journey to become a mother of four.  I captured my journey through three miscarriages, two failed IUI attempts, and two failed IVF attempts.  When going through these experiences, I found comfort in reading the inspirational blogs of others.  I have decided to keep the Four Fun Mommy blog open should anyone else find comfort from reading about my experiences.  However, since I will no longer be pursuing a fourth child, the blog title suddenly didn't fit my life anymore.  I have started this blog, My Beautiful Life, so that I may move forward and continue to write about everything that inspires me in my beautiful life.  I have transferred over some blogs as these writings reflect my random thoughts.  I could have called this blog Random Thoughts, or My Ramblings, as that is likely what this will look like to others.  I don't spend a lot of time writing, and I don't write all that often.  There are weeks that I write every day and weeks where I don't write at all.  I write only when I am inspired and I don't spend a lot of time worrying about editing or structure. I write from the heart and I write with the intention of capturing exactly what I am experiencing at the time.  Sometimes it's fiction in content, but it is always authentic in emotion.

I love the idea of capturing life in print-through pictures or words.  My new obsession is Pinterest.  No longer do I have random photos saved on my computer.  Now the things that I find beautiful are captured and organized on pinboards.  Anyone interested in my pins can find me at jenlynch2.  So through this blog and through my pins, I am  attempting to capture what moves my heart and my spirit. Hopefully, along the way, I will move someone else as well.