six weeks

It's been six weeks since I last blogged.

Six weeks since I wrote about Sadira's birthday, and turning five.


So much has happened in the past six weeks.  Things that I want to write about.  Things that I NEED to write about.

I'll be honest, I've felt a little off-balance, not blogging during these past six weeks.

I've felt a little like something was missing.  My recap.  My reflection.

Writing has become a bit cathartic for me...in a weird way.  It's obviously my life that I'm blogging about, but somehow in the re-telling of the story, the documenting of what happened, the who, what, when, where, how...it helps me process, reflect, and gain some clarity.

And that's been missing.

So many things have happened.

Yet somehow they feel unfinished.

Undocumented.


So now, on the heels of a new year, I'm posting an abbreviated recap of our past six weeks.  With the complete stories hopefully to come.

I feel like 2013 is going to be a big year for Sadira and I.  But I don't want to leave 2012 without giving it it's due credit.

So here it is...my 6 week recap.

Courtesy of my handy log of iPhone pictures. :-)

After Sadira's birthday, we spend a fun weekend in Philadelphia...

 

 Celebrated Poppop's birthday and Kerri's birthday...

Thanksgiving was quick to follow...we were blessed to have both Aunties join us once again.

Then Sadira started a small project...

 

...which turned into a Big project...

...which turned into a HUGE project.

The Christmas season was well underway, and with it came some of our favorite traditions, including Festival of Trees...

 

...Cookie bakes with friends...

...and Christmas parties at school and dance class.

A birthday party for Tallulah...

...and finally a quick trip to New York with my littlest sister.

Christmas with the family..

 

...and a New Year to begin with just a day left.

There are some challenges coming up in 2013...Sadira's dad is moving back to Ohio and that will be an adjustment for us.  Mostly for me, as I'm stressing to figure out how to do it all, and be everywhere I need to be.  But there are amazing things on the horizon...visits and trips with friends, excitement with my new job, which I love, and a sweet, new baby cousin just waiting to be born.

Hopefully I can catch up and tell the story of the past six weeks, before the next six fly by.

Happy impending 2013!

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super sucktastic september

September is usually one of my favorite months.

I love the tail end of summer that transitions to crisp autumn air in September.  I love the start of a new school year, and all the excitement that brings.  I love new extracurricular activities for Sadira.  My mom's birthday.  Labor Day weekend...there are always lots of things to look forward to in September.

Except this year.

This September has sucked in a major way.

This is the story of how September handed me my ass on a silver platter.


It always seems like when it rains it pours.  When one thing goes awry, it's inevitable that everything else is going to go poorly as well, just for good measure.  And I am the Queen of Murphy's Law...if there's any possibility of something happening that technically "shouldn't" happen, it will still happen to me.  It's just the way it works.

September started off great enough...we went to Legally Blonde at the dinner theater for Mom and Sutton's birthdays and that was a ton of fun.  The Orioles are having their best season in years, so fall baseball in Baltimore is actually relevant for once.  Not to mention the Ravens held a phenomenal season opener, blowing the Bengals out of the water.

But there were other but so fun things that have happened.


Work has been stressful in a way its never been before.  Sadie's school year began and it felt impossible to keep up.  Brian had to leave town for a week to go back to Ohio for a funeral, which is horrible enough, but left  me with no back up or extra set of hands.  Then while he was away, I got into a car accident.  I was without my car for a few weeks.  During that time my phone completely died.  I got an unexpected tax bill from the State of Maryland...there was a mix up ..their mistake, but now I owed them more money.  To the tune of several many hundreds of dollars.  Then I got sick.  Then other people around me got sick.  Then I had to pay for said car accident and tax bill and broken phone.

I mean seriously it was one thing after another...my life was starting to feel like the Book of Job.

 
I didn't blog as much, I didn't exercise as much, I didn't sleep as much.  These things that are therapeutic to me I no longer had time or energy for. 

And while none of these things are earth shattering by themselves, when piled one on top of the other on top of the other, it starts to feel overwhelming.  Beyond overwhelming.  Insurmountable.

And with no back up or outlet I felt off-kilter.  Unbalanced.  Like a top that is spinning and then starts to go off its axis, spinning about wildly.

That's exactly how I felt.  Spinning around, trying to get myself upright again.

And then there were emails, phone calls, text, messages...all from people who didn't MEAN to make me feel crazy, but just did...simply by the fact they they were asking me, "Can you...?"  "Do you...?"  "Have you...?"  "Are you..."  It felt like a million and one questions, none of which I could answer or keep up with.  Everyone needed something for me that I couldn't give or provide.  None I even wanted to deal with.  Inquiries.  Follow ups.  Invitations.  Requests. 

And I seriously just wanted to scream at everyone, "I'M HAVING A SERIES OF CRISES, CAN YOU ALL PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR A FEW MINUTES?"

And when I would talk about it, I'd get the unsolicted advice or a lecture.  "You really just need to say no to people."  "You know what you need to do Nas, you need to slow down."  "If you keep this up, you're going to make yourself sick."

Keep this up?  Oh you mean, keep up with my daily responsibilities of getting my kid to school and getting to work?  Cause that's honestly what I'm having a hard time doing.  Yeah thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

I did have friends who understood reach out.  Kerri, offered to help with anything I needed.  From picking up Sadie from school when Brian was out of town, to offering to drive me back to the repair shop to get my car.  She just understands me. One Saturday night Sandi just said, "let me keep Sadie tonight," and it honestly felt like she said, "let me give you a million dollars," because THAT'S how helpful that was in that moment.

And you know what I did?  I stayed home and slept.  Cause I desperately needed to.

Because when you feel like that, everything just becomes another chore or task.  Things that you once would've enjoyed become another thing on the To Do List.  And I'm not talking a fun, "30 Before 30" To Do List, I'm talking about the "Things that suck but I have to do them because I am an adult" To Do List.

Things just kep spinning more and more out of control.

And its become imperative that I STOP. 


About two weeks ago, in the midst of this life crisis, I had to go to a work lunch.  We were out for Chinese and I opened my fortune cookie and this is what it said:

And I seriously thought to myself, "Fortune cookie, are you being sarcastic?  Cause I have been decidedly NOT cheerful in my outlook this entire month..."

And my co-worker said as kindly as possible, "well, yeah, that's you MOST of the time...just not recently..."

So I'm taking back September.  I'm stopping.  I'm getting off this ride.  I'm not passing go, not collecting 100 dollars.  I'm done.  September, you've had my number for three weeks now and I'm over it.  I'm finally FINALLY feeling like I'm getting my head above water, and I'd like to keep it that way.  I've had some great, fantastic, wonderful opportunities come my way recently and I'm not going to let them pass me by due to a sucky attitude or negative outlook.

So there you have it.  Super sucktastic September can find someone else to pick on.

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remembering...again

Eleven years ago today it was a beautiful Tuesday morning, much like today.  I was getting ready to meet my friend Missa in Genetics lab and I was running a bit late (per usual) when my phone started ringing off the hook.  It was my mom.  I ignored the first call, since I was trying to get out the door, but when the phone persisted I picked up.

My mom's voice was panic-stricken, "We're under attack.  Do you have to work today?  Don't go.  Don't go downtown today.  Don't go anywhere!  Stay on campus until we know what's going on."

"What are you talking about?"

She was frantic, "turn on the TV! A plane flew into the World Trade Center!"

At first I thought she meant Baltimore's World Trade Center, since she had told me not to go downtown.  I turned on the TV expecting to see that a small Cessna or something similar had hit the building downtown.

Obviously that is not what I saw.  I tuned in just after the second plane had hit, and like every other American I was glued to the TV from that moment on, watching in horror as the buildings crumbled, wishing and hoping that what I was witnessing wasn't really happening.  Wanting more than anything to have super power abilities and to be able to hold those buildings back up.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur.  I remember walking over to Loyola's campus.  Many of my friends there were from the NY/NJ area, and I just felt like I needed to be there, with them.  Many had family members working in the city, and spent hours on the phone, dialing and re-dialing desperate to get through, but hearing only a busy signal.

It was awful.


Last year, on the 10th anniversary, it seemed like you couldn't turn on the TV for a second without watching that replay of the buildings falling.  I hate watching it again and again.  It seems so unfair to the families of the people who lost their lives that day.  I would hate to watch the moment one of my loved ones perished.

But just because I don't ever want to re-live that day or that moment, doesn't mean I don't want to remember it.

Last year I wrote this blog post about how I explained 9/11 to Sadira.  She was curious.  She's not the kind of child that is satisfied with the answer, "I'll tell you when you're older."  I have to find a way to age-appropriately explain these tough things to her.  Because even though she wasn't alive when it happened, I want her to remember that it happened.

In February of this year, my friend Sandi and I took Sadie and her daughter Olivia to New York, and we got to visit the new 9/11 Memorial for the first time.  It was breathtaking, heartbreaking, and serene all at the same time.  And I wrote this blog post, aptly titled "remembering."

Last weekend, when Sadie and I trucked downtown for the Grand Prix, we watched from the Observation Deck on the top of the World Trade Center, Baltimore.  The very building I thought my mother was talking about when she called me shortly after the South Tower in NYC was struck.

In the front of the building is a large marble slab.  Atop the marble sits a large piece of one of the towers.  Twisted and mangled, it serves as physical evidence of what happened.  A means to remember.

Etched into the slab is a timeline of the events of 9/11/01.

And when you arrive to the 27th floor, observation level, there is a memorial to all of the Marylanders who lost their lives on 9/11/01.

When I think of 9/11 my heart aches for New York.  It's a city I love, have spent much time in, and the loss of life and devastation was immeasurable.  But I'm glad we have this Memorial here in Baltimore, at our own World Trade Center.  Something to remind us that this tragedy affects every single American, regardless of what state, city, suburb they live in.

It's important for us to remember. 

And it's important for my state to honor to 68 people who called Maryland home, and to let their families know, we will remember.

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today i sold sadie's toybox

Craigslist post: "Step 2 toy box with blue closing lid, in great shape. We've outgrown this toybox, but we've loved it for over three years. Dimensions are 29L x 19D x 22H. $20, pick up only. I live in East Baltimore, near 95. Please email to respond to this post.  Thanks."

Today I sold Sadie's toybox.

Simple sentence.

No big deal.

Nothing major.


In recent months it felt like we didn't have as much use for the toybox as we previously had.  Sadira's most favorite things to play with are her arts and crafts, her Leappad, or her books.  And while she still enjoys playing with toys that live in her toybox (Mr. Potato Head being her main man), it seems like there are less and less toys to store in the toybox these days.  Most have found homes in her pink room. 

I decided about a month or so ago that we'd use the brown ottoman to store her toys.  I had been stashing extra blankets and pillows in there--nothing that couldn't be moved into the hall closet.  It's a bit smaller than the toybox, but very sleek, fits our needs, and remarkably hides all of the toys.

Seemed like it was just time, and we had outgrown the toybox.

I posted the toybox on Craigslist a few weeks ago, and had several offers.  Timing didn't always work out, people didn't show when they said they would, a few tried to lowball me and knowing there was adequate interest, I refused.  I kept thinking I should either re-post it or delete it.

But I didn't. 

I just left it posted there.

And then yesterday a lady named Melissa emailed me.

"Hi, is the toybox still available?"

I told her it was.  She was very interested, and lived close to my office.  I told her if she was serious about purchasing it, I'd bring it to the office with me today and she could pick it up here. 

Better for her because it's closer to her home.

Better for me because I don't like strangers from Craigslist knowing where I live.

We arranged a time, and this morning at 10:15 my desk phone rang.

"Hi, it's Melissa.  I'm here to pick up the toybox?"

I told her I'd be right down.


Today I sold Sadie's toybox.


I bought the toybox in 2008.  It was Christmas night and we had just returned home from my Grandmother's house.  Sadira was 13 months old and was gleefully enjoying the fruits of her first "real" Christmas.  Since she was only 7 weeks old for her actual first Christmas in 2007, she hadn't remembered much.

I surveyed the contents of my living room.  There were toys EVERYWHERE.  I had always been adamant that there would be "NO VISIBLE TOYS IN MY LIVING ROOM!"  But in that moment, I felt like I was losing the battle.  Up until this point in her life all of Sadira's toys could be neatly stashed in her room or the basement playroom.  But as I stood in the room that once resembled my living room, I couldn't help but feel like I was living in Toys 'R Us. 

Something had to be done.

I took to Craigslist. 

And after a few clicks I found what I wanted.  A kid's toybox that was mostly neutral in color, had a small shelf on the top, and fit the dimensions of the space I had available next to my stairs.  It wasn't garish with heinous colors, it wasn't shaped like a butterfly or a frog, it didn't have Dora the Explorer plastered across the front.

It had been posted that day and I sent the email immediately.

"Hi, I'm interested in your toybox.  Is it still available?"

I got a response the next morning.  It was still available, but there were several inquiries about it.  I was the first, and if I could pick it up that day it was mine.

It was $20.

Knowing there were other interested parties, I wasn't going to haggle.  Plus, it was exactly what I wanted and $20 for exactly what you want is actually quite a steal.

The next day Sadira and I piled in the car, and drove 15 minutes away to pick up the toybox.  The mom who sold it to me seemed wistful.  Her son was TEN.  She had had it for EIGHT YEARS.  It was in impeccable shape.  She told us how much he had enjoyed it.

In less than two minutes we had purchased the toybox, but I noticed the mom seemed to hang back and watch us pack it up.  She called off to Sadira, "I hope you enjoy your new toybox!  Take good care of it!"

She seemed so...attached?

I glanced in my rearview mirror and noticed that she was watching us drive away.

I remember thinking, "geez, lady it's just a toybox..."

What a silly thing to get so wistful about...


Today I sold Sadie's toybox.


The toybox has lived in our living room now for over three and a half years.  There were always two things in the living room that were exclusively Sadira's--her red PBK Sadira chair, and her toybox with all her wordly possessions and treasures inside.

When her friends would come over, all the kids would all instantly tear into the toybox and rip out the contents.  And when it was time to go all of the moms would announce in a chorus, "time to clean up! Everything back in the toybox!"

Sadie and Sean made a habit about a year ago of completely emptying the contents so they could both climb in and "hide" together.

During Snowmageddon a few years ago Sadira and I were housebound for over a week.  We were SO SICK of being stuck in the house, and apparently Viv Cat was tired of sharing her space with us as well...because after a few minutes of searching the house, thinking she was "lost," we found her curled up in Sadie's toybox, snuggled next to a strawberry shortcake doll.

And every year, on the day after Christmas, Sadira and I would go through the contents of the toybox and decide what we were going to keep/donate/toss.  I always found it was easier for her to let go of toys she had outgrown (but still loved) when she had just received fun brand new Christmas gifts.

By it's very purpose in our home, this toybox became the center point of so many fun memories.  Memories with friends (kids playing, while moms sat on the sofa chatting and drinking wine), memories of holidays (sorting through old toys and replacing them with new birthday and Christmas gifts), and memories with our family of two...coming home after a long day at work, and not having the energy to go outside or to a friend's house, but wanting to spend some quality time with Sadira, we'd sit on the floor and pull the toys out of the toybox, and chat about our day together.


Today I sold Sadie's toybox.



I met Melissa in my office parking lot.  Her adorable son was jumping on her passenger seat as we introduced ourselves.

I told her it would be just a minute for me to grab the toybox out of my car.

I walked over to where my car was parked, retrieved the toybox and brought it back over to her.

She packed it up in the trunk as I asked how old her son was.

"Sixteen months," she said.  She grabbed her wallet, "twenty dollars, right?"

I nodded and she handed me cash.

I looked at the little boy, "I hope you enjoy your new toybox. Take good care of it!"
 
In less than two minutes they had purchased the toybox.  I walked back into my building and looked out the window so Melissa wouldn't see me watching them as they drove away.   



Today I sold Sadie's toybox.


The toybox that I bought for $20 four years ago, just sold for $20 to a new family.  It seems so silly to get wistful over a piece of kid's furniture.  But now, as I'm sitting here in a melancholy mood, I suddenly understand why that mom whom I bought it from in 2008 seemed so attached.

It's not because of a toybox.

It's because it's a little piece of Sadira's toddler-hood that I just sold and watch drive away.

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music monday: who run the world?

This goes out to all the women getting it in,
Get on your grind
To the other men that respect what I do
Please accept my shine
Boy you know you love it
How we're smart enough to make these millions
Strong enough to bare the children
Then get back to business

After spending time with my sisters I always feel a little "Girl Power"'ish.  Especially when I see what awesome, strong, independent young women both of my little sisters are becoming.

We had lots of talk this weekend about future, and goals, and creating your own destiny, and going after what you want, and not relying on other people to provide for you to get there.

I'm so proud of them.

And glad that Sadira has some awesome role models right in her very own family to look up to.



And sometimes Beyonce's the only way to get you through a Monday.

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aurora, colorado

Denver at dusk, Sadira 2011

I woke up Friday morning, and started my day just like any other.  And after taking a shower, brushing my teeth, and drying my hair, I turned on the Today show to listen in on the latest news and catch the 7:50am local traffic report right before I ran out the door.

But the news was different that morning. 

Instead of the typical morning show--bit pieces, mixed with featured guests, mixed with some real news---the show was a live look at a scene outside a Colorado apartment building as it was unfolding.  The apartment belonged to a suspect. 

As we all know now, that suspect had gone into a movie theater during a midnight showing and opened fire on the audience.  Innocent people guilty of nothing other than attending a movie on a Thursday night were mowed down senselessly.  While I had been sleeping 12 people had been killed and 58 others had been injured.

I couldn't watch.  I turned it off.  I went to work, and went about my day.

I avoided the stories on the internet.

I overhead people whispering about it in the cafeteria that day.

"Did you hear what happened in that movie theater?"

"I heard that one of the injured was a three month old baby."

"How could someone do something like this?"

"And to think, it's only a half hour or so away from where Columbine happened."

I didn't participate in the discussion.  I didn't look up the details online.  I didn't read the tweets or Facebook posts.  I didn't want to think about it.  I didn't want to hear about it.  

I'm still not completely sure why I avoided the news.

Maybe it's because I just didn't want to hear the horrific details.

Maybe it's because I didn't want to think about the sadness the family's of the victims must be feelings...some of them probably didn't even know that their loved ones were gone yet.

Maybe it's because I couldn't think of how senselessly these people's lives were ended while I was over 20 miles away from my daughter.  For some reason if I have to hear awful news, I at least want her close to me.  So I know she's safe.  So I know I can hold on to her a little if I need a reminder that there IS good in the world.

I just don't understand how one person can have such blatant disregard for the lives of other people.

I don't get it.

I'll never get it.

It's impossible to hear this story and not remember Columbine.  I was a senior in high school when the Columbine high school massacre happened in Littleton, Colorado.  I remember coming home from school on April 20th 1999, turning on the TV, and sitting there, on the floor of my mother's living room for 3 hours watching the details unfold until my mom got home.

I watched every moment.  I couldn't get enough of it.  I couldn't look away.  I needed all of the details.

I remember thinking how these kids were just like me.  I was a senior in high school and could relate to those kids.  I had six weeks of high school left, just like many of them did.  I couldn't imagine something like that happening in my community.  I couldn't imagine something like that happening in my school.

The next day in school we did nothing but talk about what had happened.  We speculated about the future...would there be more security in schools now?  Would metal detectors be required to enter school?  I remember sitting in religion class and my friend Kelly was sitting next to me.  I remember her saying, "all they did was go to school that day.  That's all."

And in the weeks that followed, I remember listening to the stories of those who had been killed.  The kids who had their lives taken from them for doing nothing wrong. What they were like, what their dreams and aspirations were.  How their lives ended too quickly.  Senselessly.  Just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Four months later my friend Kelly was killed in a car accident.  She was driving to her boyfriend's house when her car was struck by another vehicle that had been thrown across median of a highway.  All she did was drive to her boyfriend's house that day. That's all.  She was doing nothing wrong.  And her life ended too quickly.  Senselessly.  Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Two years later September 11th happened.  Same thing.  Senseless killing.  People losing their lives just for being where they were supposed to be that day.  

When the Virginia Tech shootings happened my thoughts raced to my sister, who was a college student.  How could we once again be dealing with kids being shot and killed for going to school?? How is this possible?

I don't get it.

I'll never get it.

In the meantime, now the stories of those who were killed in Aurora are starting to come out.  The details of who they were, how old they were, what was going on in their lives.  Naturally many of them were young, with decades of years ahead of them.

And while I've tried to keep a distance from this news, to not get wrapped up in the horror of it, I couldn't help but get drawn into the story of Jessica Ghawi, or Jessica Redfield as she was also known.  At 25 years old, she was only one year older than the shooter.  But I think the thing that stood out to me the most was that I felt like she was someone that I could've been friends with.  She was a redhead and a hockey fan like my friend Sarah.  She had a live life to the fullest, "no day but today" spirit like my friend Shannon.  She was southern, with sweet yet sarcastic wit like my friend Lindsey.  She like to have a good time like my friend Sandi.  She was kind like my friend Kerri. 

And she liked to blog, like me.  I found one of her last blogs that she had written.  It's been all over the news, and on the internet.  The story of how she survived a shooting in Toronto just a month ago, and wrote this blog post about appreciating every moment, how every moment is a gift, and not to take a single day for granted. 

I could see myself writing something similar.

And then out of the blue while putting together a puzzle this afternoon Sadira asks me, "Mommy, are we gonna hafta go through security to go to the movies now like we do when we get on a airplane?"  Just like that.  Didn't even look up from her puzzle, just asked.  I told her I don't think so, but didn't even ask her how she heard.  I've learned not ask her those kinds of things.

It was weird. 

I'm glad she didn't ask anymore.


There is no "bigger meaning" to this blogpost.  No "Aha Moment" or life defining moral of the story that came from this tragedy.  Just a stream of consciousness collection of my thoughts about these events. 

The senselessness of it has rid me of any logical conclusions or lessons that could be learned.

I don't get it.

I'll never get it.

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365 project - the final installment

13. Take a picture every day for one year - DONE!

It's been almost a full month since my birthday came and went, and a full month since I completed my 365 project.  But for some reason I found myself avoiding writing this last post.  Something about it felt so...final. 

I've enjoyed this little project so much.  Sometimes taking a photo every single today became an arduous task.  Especially after a long, rather boring, monotonous day.  I'd realize I hadn't captured a single shot of ANYTHING, and the sun was already going down, leaving little options.  Other days I knew exactly where my photo was going to come from, as Sadira and I prepared for an event, or special day.

But as I skim over the photos, all 367 of them (extra for the leap year, and another extra because I took a photo on both June 21st's), I realized that some of my most favorite shots were the ones of the ordinary days.  Capturing moments that otherwise would not have been documented.  Pictures of the every day things in my house, or my life that I see CONSTANTLY, but would never stop to admire and take a photo.  Like this, or this, or this, or this.

Some of them speak to me SO much, that I almost feel like I'm transported back to that moment.  Not so much because the photo is great, but because I LIVED it, and the memories of that moment in time come back to me so quickly when I see the image.  Like this, or this, or this, or this.

Ahhh....natsukashi.

And finally some of them make me genuinely PROUD.  Because I feel the composition is good, the colors are right, and the light is well balanced.  Don't get me wrong, I have a long way to go honing my skills, but there are definitely some that I'd be proud to hang on my wall.  Like this, or this, or this, or this, or this.

And while I'd really like to be able to tell you that I plan on continuing with this project, to keep it up for another year or so...I just don't see that happening.  BUT, I may continue with a favorite photo of the week and just post it here on my blog.  For my own memory, and to look back on and think, "Natsukashi!"

In the meantime...here's my final installment.

6.1.12

Kerri's "make-over."  How beautiful you are after three 4 year olds got ahold of ya, Ker!

6.2.12

Rockin' like grandparents.  Livin' it up at the Cracker Barrel.

6.3.12

Posing like a "fashion."

6.4.12

The view from above at the end of an Orioles' game.

6.5.12

I love this big beautiful tree, and nature's symmetry.

6.6.12

Clouds look just like a blanket of cotton covering the sky.

6.7.12

Lightenin' bug season!  Love catching these little critters at dusk.

6.8.12

Watching the big girls in one of their last dress rehearsals before the big day.

6.9.12

Happy Birthday, Morgan!  Life is sweet with cotton candy and friends.

6.10.12

Mini Minnies. Sadie and Olivia in their matching outfits

6.11.12

First snowball of the season!  This is truly when we know summer has arrived...Walther Gardens' snowballs are our absolute FAVE!

6.12.12

Natty Betty!  Sadie loves her, so when we found this sticker the only natural spot for it was on her window.

6.13.12

Potato Head Party!  I'm not sure who had more fun creating these...Sadira, or me and Sutton.

6.14.12

Tall ships have docked at the Inner Harbor for Sailabration.

6.15.12

House warming!  Having a great day of summer fun celebrating the Baranowskis' new home.

6.16.12

On board the Mexico boat at Sailabration. What a view from the deck of the tall ships!

6.17.12

Pug kisses.  Sadie and Tallulah lovin' on one another.

6.18.12

Magnolia tree.  Over this year this tree has grown larger and larger and is now as tall as the house! I snapped a photo of this bloom from the back deck at my grandparents' house.

6.19.12

Kisses for Addisyn.  Little Miss is in town from Hawaii...and we're straight from dance dress rehearsal.

6.20.12

Sushi!  The meal of choice for new year's eve and birthday eve this year.

6.21.12

Best birthday present ever...an awesome performance from my little star.

Week One

Week Two

Week Three

Week Four

Week Five 

Weeks Six and Seven 

Weeks Eight and Nine

Weeks Ten and Eleven 

Weeks Twelve and Thirteen 

Weeks Fourteen and Fifteen

Weeks Sixteen and Seventeen

Weeks Eighteen and Nineteen

Weeks Twenty, Twenty-one, and Twenty-two 

Weeks Twenty-three, Twenty-four and Twenty-five

Weeks Twenty-six, Twenty-seven and Twenty-eight  

Weeks Twenty-nine, Thirty and Thirty-one

Weeks Thirty-two, Thirty-three and Thirty-four  

Weeks Thirty-five, Thirty-six and Thirty-seven

Weeks Thirty-eight, Thirty-nine and Forty  

Weeks Forty-one, Forty-Two, and all of April

Month of May

For my complete project, visit: NassyMirjaf's 365 Project.

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hey there sadira

(Ten month old Baby Sadie)

Ever hear a song that you haven't heard in awhile and it takes you right back to a moment in your past?  Yeah, of course you do.  It's happened to all of us.  If it hasn't happened to you, well, don't tell me because I may start questioning whether you have a soul or not.

I kid, I kid.

This morning I was sitting in gridlock traffic, getting into a bad mood because 1: it's morning, 2: I didn't have any coffee yet, 3: I'm stuck in gridlock traffic, and 4: I can't help but think that the traffic is a metaphor for how even God must really not want me to go into work today.  And while I was sitting in said gridlock getting into a grumpier and grumpier mood, the song "Hey There Delilah" came on the radio.


And I instantly thought, "this song came out 5 years ago this month."  Very Rainman-esque of me, right?  Well, before you start marveling at my memory capabilities, there is a reason I remember this particular song that topped the charts for weeks in July 2007.

STORY TIME!  (Wheeeeeee!!)

 As I've mentioned before, Sadira was a big, fat surprise, and getting pregnant with her was never part of my agenda.  On Friday March 9, 2007 (here I go playing Rainman again...it was a Friday, I swear, look it up, and NO I didn't have to Google that) I was sitting on my doctor's exam table wearing an uncomfortable and unflattering paper gown.  My boyfriend of all of nine months was sitting nervously in a chair next to me and we listened as my doctor confirmed what we were already fearing.  I half listened as he told me about "my options" and explained that contrary to popular belief, throwing oneself down a flight of stairs will not rid you of an unplanned pregnancy, but will most likely just cause some broken bones, and not to do it. (I kid you not, he gave me that speech.)

I remember blinking back tears as I watched him write the words, "Pill Failure" on my chart that day, but all I could really focus on was the word failure and how somehow, by this event taking place, I was in fact a failure.

I had never missed a pill, why did it fail me?  I didn't want to have a child, I was 25 and my plan was always to enjoy my twenties and live them up!  Why was this happening?  I had been Student Body President and got a full ride through college for Chrissake, where the hell did I go wrong!?

The next three months were, well, how do I say this gently, living hell.  Anyone who's ever been pregnant knows that the first trimester is typically the worst when it comes to symptoms.  And it's much more than morning sickness, which thankfully I never had much of.  The constipation alone will make you feel like you're practicing for labor (TMI I'm sure, but it's true.)  The food aversions made me miserable.  The mood swings made everyone around me miserable.

Much worse than the physical discomforts was the psychological torture that I inflicted upon myself.  Somewhere I had gone wrong.  God was punishing me.  I was a terrible person and my life was over.

You know how people are generally extra nice to pregnant women?  Holding the door open for them?  Asking how they feel?  Listening to them complain? Offering their own support or advice?  Stopping the world so they can get a snack or pee?

I didn't want to hear any of it.

In my opinion, I didn't deserve special treatment, or advice.  I deserved to be alone, feel alone, and have no one congratulate me or say kind words to me or do any favors for me.  I was a terrible person.  And now this poor child is going to have a terrible, horrible, unprepared person for a mother for the rest of their life.  I was a terrible person.

My family, who had done nothing but invest their good efforts in me all of my life, would now have to explain to their friends that I was a failure.  Where had they gone wrong, I was certain they wondered.  While I knew my mother would be understanding, I dreaded having to tell my traditional, Catholic, religious grandparents. I didn't want to see their disppointment.  I was a terrible person.

And then I would hear stories of people who were TRYING to get pregnant and couldn't.  People--friends of mine even--who were desperate to get pregnant with a child but were having trouble.  And that made me feel like MORE of a terrible person.  I was given this gift that should've gone to someone else.  And I didn't even WANT it.  I was an ungrateful, undeserving brat.

I was a terrible person.


This is what I truly thought.

This went on for three months, though it felt like it was three years.  Morning sickness would've been a welcome distraction from the mental torture I put myself through.

I often say now that I didn't have postpartum depression, but I'm pretty positive I had prepartum/pregnancy depression, if such a thing exists.


And then we found out she was a girl.  And I started to feel her moves and kicks.  We picked her name. And this person growing inside me started to have a shred more of an identity.  Don't get me wrong, I was still miserable, but I was hiding it well from the outside.

And then we got a phone call from the doctor.  She had cysts in her cerebral spinal fluid and we had to do more tests.  My doctor said, "don't Google."  I didn't listen.  I Googled.  And I learned that in 95% of the cases, babies with these cysts turn out perfectly fine.  But in the other 5%, it's a marker for one of Trisomys, which is a chromosomal problem which causes severe birth defects.  But in these children they don't make it.  They are typically stillborn, or if they do survive through birth, they usually don't live for very long after delivery.

It didn't matter than in 95% of cases, children are perfectly healthy.

What mattered was in 5% of the cases, it meant death.


And for the first time, the baby I never planned for, the pregnancy I never wanted was in jeopardy.  Just as I was starting to come to terms and make peace with my situation, something was threatening to pull the carpet out from under me.


And I was terrified.


And for several weeks we shuffled from genetic counselor, to high risk doctor, to weekly ultrasounds...

...until our baby was deemed perfectly healthy...

in July of 2007.


And in that month I would hear that song, "Hey There Delilah" in the car, or in the store, or on my iPod and I would sing along, sometimes changing the words to "Hey There Sadira."  And when I needed some quiet time I'd go into her purple nursery, and rock in the glider, and sing the words aloud.

It brought me comfort.

"Hey there Delilah Sadira, I know times are getting hard,

But just believe me girl, someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar 

 We'll have it good... 

we'll have the life we knew we would.

 My word is good"

"Close your eyes...

listen to my voice it's my disguise...

I'm by your side."

And I started to think that maybe I was SUPPOSED to have this child.  For some reason God had given me this opportunity to be a mother to this baby girl.  And whether or not I was supposed to be pregnant, really didn't matter.  

It wasn't about having a baby.

It was about how for some reason I was meant to have THIS baby.

 

"Hey there Delilah Sadira, I've got so much left to say  

If every simple song I wrote to you would take your breath away, 

I'd write it all .

Even more in love with me you'd fall...

we'd have it all."

"Oh it's what you do to me...

Oh it's what you do to me..."

And in months later, the negative feelings that had once plagued me, slowly melted away.  And the positive ones kept multiplying exponentially.  And the village around me grew.  Friends and family were excited, supported me, loved the baby who wasn't even born yet, and showered us with love.

 

And my grandparents who I once feared I had disappointed, danced at my baby shower.

"Delilah Sadira I can promise you  

That by the time that we get through  

The world will never ever be the same...
And you're to blame."

"Oh it's what you do to me...

Oh it's what you do to me..."

It's not a song from a mother to a daughter, it's a song from a guy to a girl. But in the song he talks about how one day everything will be okay.  Even though things are not there right now, they will be.  And they'll get there together.  And when they get there, it will be amazing.

It's a song about hope, love, and faith.

At the time, I didn't know how wonderful it would get.  I didn't even know that we'd get to the point of happiness that my baby shower pictures depict.  Getting there felt like an accomplishment, at the time.

Where I am now, five years later, feels like it should've never been possible.

When I heard it this morning, even though I was stuck in gridlock rush hours traffic with no coffee, I realized how the wonderful life we have today once felt like it would never be possible. 

And when I hear it, I'm instantly taken back to that place I was in, in July 2007, feeling my journey of emotions in the four minutes and three seconds of the song.

Disappointment 
Sadness
Fear
Worry
Anxiety
Relief!
Peace
Calmness
Happiness
Excitment

and finally, and most importantly,

Gratitude  



While Sadira may be an "accident" in a medical record, I know now that it was with a greater purpose that she was brought into our lives. And I'm so thankful for that, because she truly brings so much to our family.

It's amazing how something that once felt like your biggest failure could become your biggest accomplishment.

"You'll know it's all because of you  
We can do whatever we want to...
Hey there Delilah Sadira here's to you  
This one's for you."

 (Five month old Baby Sadie)

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