32 WEEKS + A 36 WEEK LETTER

These were taken at 32 weeks. I'm 36 weeks as I write this and your Papa is packing things away for our journey home in the background. We'll be headed to Albuquerque tomorrow morning. I had planned on taking another picture of you and I today, but we didn't get around to it. I hope we'll have time to take one before you come. 

Dear Baby,
In a way, I feel like this is the beginning of your birth story. Partly because this will probably be the last letter I'm able to write to you before you're here with us and also because I'm convinced your birth and place in this family started carving itself out long before the day you'll arrive. Much like the story of the gospel and really, all of our lives as a whole, the story of your beginning is full of hard things and triumphal moments that somehow come together to make a big, beautiful story. I'm excited to tell it. I'm excited to keep telling the story of our family until you and your siblings can tell it too.

I had a feeling you were with me. A few days before I held a positive pregnancy test, I had looked down while walking home from a quick trip to the corner grocery store and there you were. My shirt draped across my belly a different way. It's hard to describe other than to say that when you've done it once before, you know what is growth and what is bloat. A thought flashed through my mind, 'I'm pregnant.' and then it was gone. I wasn't entirely sure I was pregnant, but I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to know whether I was pregnant either. A few weeks before I had almost worked myself into panic attack at the thought of having another baby, ever. So I waited, and tried not to think about the possibility of you all that hard. I wasn't sure how I would feel. I knew how I would want to feel, full of joy, but just wanting to feel a certain way wouldn't will that reaction into existence. I also knew that no matter what my brain told me I wanted and whether you were planned or not, my heart would be disappointed if the test were negative. Women are funny, fickle people sometimes.

The day your Papa and I found out about you, we were packing our things for a trip to Niagara Falls. We had talked briefly and awkwardly about the absence of my womanly visitor, but had shrugged it off until the night before. I went to bed with a plan to take a pregnancy test when we woke in the morning. My hands shook as I unwrapped the test. I tried to be calm about it. I tried not to care or prefer a certain result. I held the test in my hands and watched the results appear - and I laughed. It was all I could do after the life we'd lived the past year and the changes I knew were coming. Coming out of the bathroom after taking a pregnancy test is awkward. It's like walking out onto a stage to tell a joke you had to come up with in the last ten minutes. You haven't tested it out on anyone. You haven't rehearsed it at all. I had no idea how to tell your Papa and for once in our lives, I wasn't entirely sure what his reaction would be. I don't mean his outward reaction. He is a good enough man not to outwardly express disappointment at the news of a new baby, but I can see the truth in him even when I don't want to. I was afraid to see something there, a flicker of it across his face, but I was also looking and hoping for it as a comfort to myself. I was looking for something to tell me that the touch of despair underneath the joy that I felt was ok.


I didn't have a lot of time to formulate how to tell him. I didn't want it to be awkward. I didn't want it to be solemn. So I made the split decision to take the route of humor and opened the bathroom door. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and realized I was smiling like an idiot. I had an internal dialogue about whether I should be smiling, 'It's ok to smile, right? This is happy news, but it's also stressful news if I'm honest.' I guess I was afraid to announce it lightheartedly only for him to launch right into the logistics and shock of it all. The morning light was streaming in through our open windows. Brooklyn sounds followed the light in. He was assembling all the food for the road trip - he put the butter knife down and turned to face me when he sensed me in the doorway. I'm terrible at hiding emotions, so I'm sure he knew as soon as he turned around and saw my face. I couldn't just stand there in silence and assume he knew, so I blurted out the quippiest thing I could think of, 'So I guess one more person is coming to Niagara Falls with us.'

24 WEEKS + THOUGHTS ON BECOMING FOUR IN 2015

 

As is customary around this time of year, I've been spending a lot of time reflecting on 2014. It was a whirlwind kind of year, to say the least. We moved four times to four different states and spent over half of the year staying in other people's homes, accepting the generosity and hospitality of others, but never being able to give any in return. It was adventurous and it was unforgettable and it was hard. It was trying. It was draining. It was taxing on our family, finances, and hearts. Brooklyn was completely worth it, but I'm relieved to be on the other side, looking back at all of it and forward to a fresh start. After all of the change we've been through, heels dug in the ground and my hands over my eyes for most of it, I just don't have the energy to join in the new year hullabaloo with a list of goals and such. Realistically, I'll be spending the majority of my energy and thoughts on birthing a baby and falling in love with said baby and helping my people get our life sorted out, and that's ok with me - or at least I'm trying to make that ok with me. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't lay down goals and walk away from them lightly. Before I birth said baby, I'm trying my hardest to enjoy being three. I'm thrilled at the idea of meeting this new life, but I'm equally terrified at the thought of staying at home with two, the possibility of battling depression again, having a challenging time breastfeeding again. It was all so unbelievably hard the first time around and though I'm entering into this new phase of motherhood with more experience and perspective, the fear is there and makes me wonder whether its always a companion for mothers when adding another to their home, whether its their 2nd or 6th?

Along with the fear comes a touch of sadness at it no longer being just the three of us, or just Ev and I the majority of the time. I find myself grasping for the time to cherish her, but facing disappointment instead. The life we're headed back to in March is not the life I want for her, and this is not how I wanted to spend our last months together. The defiance that comes with being almost three has been a regular companion most days and my desire to cherish it all before we're a family of four makes for a horrible match against parenting and discipline. I swing from high to low each day, from overreacting and being overwhelmed to checking out completely and doing nothing out of defeat. I make lists to try to make sense of our lives when there's no sense or solution to be found. I know that no matter how many lists I make, it won't all get done in the two weeks we'll have to prepare, it all can't be afforded, and my experience will probably be nothing like what I'm imagining and hoping for. It will be good; nonetheless, because there's always good to be found in a new life, but I'm afraid it will be filled with more disappointment. I have no idea how I will manage two kids in all the circumstances that await us when we head back to Albuquerque. I have no idea how I will love another kid the way that I love Evie, how I will have enough good in myself to give to each of them.

If there's one thing I've learned through five years of marriage and (almost) two pregnancies, it's that life is uncontrollable. There's nothing like the change of seasons or the arrival of a new year to remind us of impermanence. I used to live under the assumption that it was in our control to bring a baby into the world at just the right time, when it would be the most convenient for us and our plans. Being (unexpectedly) pregnant through the holiday season has been a special time for me. It's given me a unique view through Mary's perspective - through all the wanderers' of the Bible. I'm sure giving birth in a manger wasn't what she had in mind. I wonder if she had thoughts along the lines of, 'Really? Right now? This can't wait until we're home? Or at least until we find a place to stay for the night?' When groups of the Bible were led this way and that, did the mothers long for home? Were they all just desperate for a place to rest and nurse their babies, for a normal life? Sometimes I'm thankful for the sporadic life we've lived, but oftentimes it has felt a lot like laying things down at each place we leave - my plans, dreams of home, financial goals, hopes of security, jobs, memories of my child. It feels a lot like closing the door on all of that and oh, how that begins to hurt after you do it repeatedly and how obvious it becomes that I'm holding tightly to things that I don't want to relinquish control of - things I think are important, but are just specks of dust in our lives.

I imagine there's a special kind of freedom that comes from giving it all up, from unclenching your fists, laying it down, and walking away - the perfectly decorated house or even a home of our own, the baby brought home to a space that is ready for them, the defiant toddler who is battling her own wills and desires, the job you've been hoping for. When all of that is stripped away, I imagine you can really begin to live because you aren't wasting a single second planning and worrying about matters that are uncontrollable. I've learned many lessons in patience and perseverance and letting things go over the last year and that's been a hard road to walk for a perfectionist.

When I was pregnant with Ev, I couldn't imagine us as a family of three. I had no idea how two kids who like to sleep in and go on sporadic adventures were going to figure out life with a baby. While it didn't feel like our normal at all in the beginning, we came to be comfortable together, effortlessly in love. How I long for that learning curve, that awkward fumbling stage, to be shorter than the last. These three years with Ev have changed me beyond recognition and I will always cherish our memories together. She will probably never remember a time without her sibling, but I will. In 2014, I learned that big changes often bring hard times with them, but there is always beauty to be found. While I don't look forward to the difficulty that might await us, I do look forward to the inevitable beauty and joy that will be found in this new season of life. I know that the fumbling feeling of a new person joining us will wear off and will all settle in to our effortless love once again.

So here's to 2015 and letting it all go and falling in love with a brand new person.

GOODBYE, BROOKLYN.

On the Friday before last we stood in our empty little Brooklyn apartment and said our goodbyes - to the quirky front door that made entirely too much noise when you shut it, to the kitchen where our meals and practically all of our memories were made, to the bedroom we spent many nights in, holding hands across mattresses and listening to the city below, and to the holes in the ceiling that we managed to laugh about for months. Leaving seemed a little sudden, even to us, but it was something we had known was coming. I love writing our story down here, but this has been something that I felt I needed to process in my own time, my own way, and I'm still not quite ready to give the world an explanation. What I am ready to share here is how good it feels to be back in a place that feels like home. As soon as we saw those mountains silhouetted by a Southwest sunset, our bodies all just breathed a sigh of relief. Brooklyn was a really good time for our family and it will always have been worth it, but it was also one of the hardest times. Since leaving, we've been spontaneously assembling a list of things we learned while living there - No distance is ever too far to walk. New Yorkers have a unique skill for using the F word - I've never heard that word used in so many ways, so many times in one sentence in all my life. Soda water is underrated. Grocery shopping is the single most challenging thing you can do in the city, besides moving. Brokers are people of the most horrible kind. The largest city in the country doesn't feel so big once you live there.

I'll never forget our last night there spent walking through our neighborhood, eating a late dinner at the pizza place it took us a few trial runs to find, and falling asleep together on the air mattress with views of the Freedom Tower beams shooting through the sky out our window. We have so many good memories to hold onto of our time spent in the city, but it still feels really good to be back in New Mexico. There's no doubt that Brooklyn will always be a part of us. Even children we haven't had yet will hear the tales of Brooklyn from us and will feel a connection to this place that other people don't have. There will always be a little part of me wandering the streets of the city, pushing that stroller along, on our next city adventure. Since coming back to Albuquerque, we've spent the majority of our time visiting with old friends, soaking up the Southwest sun during the day, and admiring the stars at night. We're staying with some beautiful friends of ours while we sort out the finer details of our lives, so we're still in limbo a bit, but we're finding peace in already feeling fairly settled in our lives here. It took mere minutes for us to look at each other with big smiles on our faces and say, 'It feels right.' We've been talking of our plans and all we really want to do is plant some roots, make a home, and raise some babies. So here's to that, the end of a memorable chapter, and the beginning of a new and hopeful one.

SIMPLE THINGS + NOT SO SIMPLE THOUGHTS

I find myself unintentionally picking up my camera in more ordinary moments lately. It's probably my quiet revolt against a society that is trying to make everyone believe that they need to be somewhere beautiful, doing something epic, eating something delicious, having life-changing conversations with people that matter, while validating it all by sharing it 40 different places online. 'It doesn't count if no one sees me do it.' is what is ringing in our heads. We all think we're missing something if we aren't connected and the truth is that we are - we're missing real life as it passes by us, blurred glimpses seen from the edges of our screens are what people settle for. I often wonder if ten years from now children will be saying, "I wish I had been able to look up and see my mother's face more, rather than the lens of her camera/seeing her face turned down at her phone." I find myself standing in an ordinary moment, seeing extraordinary beauty so I dash out of the room to find my camera and I try to sneak back into the moment without anyone noticing that I left. Most of the time I'll get a few seconds of the genuine moment, then I'll see their eyes shift, noticing I'm there, followed shortly by a crooked smile and 'What are you doing?'

It makes things a bit quiet around here because honestly, I'm a little intimidated by the many people out there who have a skill for capturing real life in a much more beautiful way than I feel like I can. I enjoy capturing these moments, but I enjoy it for me and I'm honestly terrified of the thought of creating a business or obligation out of a hobby I've come to rely on for therapy. So I usually shy away from sharing some of the more personal pictures I take here because for a long while, in a world focused on sharing without savoring, I thought of it as cheapening. I know they're nothing special in terms of skill, but I cherish them. These moments are fleeting. They are the simple moments people miss after time has passed - your two year old discovering morning light, watching your husband shave, stuffed animals at the table.

I feel that so much of people's lives that are shared online are posed. This world demands perfection - look your best, act your best, share your best, be the best, and it's disheartening because I feel like I am the least put together woman out there for one, but I also wonder how that can be satisfying. That first statement is probably what explains the absence of pictures of myself here. It's something I realize is an issue inside of me that needs to be dealt with, my lack of taking care of myself at all for one, but also my reluctance to keep pictures of myself in which I'm not satisfied with my appearance. It's a curious thing too because I'm not necessarily self-conscious of what I look like nor do I care what other people think about me much. It's more about how I don't look the way I feel, a disconnect between the life I'm living in my head and what my appearance says about that. There are so many other things that are a bigger priority for me that I rarely think about how I'm dressed or when I ate or exercising at all, until I look at a picture of myself and it's all completely apparent to me, my lack of loving myself.

There have been a plethora of articles out there lately about 'over parenting' and being 'too busy.' My thoughts: you wouldn't have to over parent and busy yourself into exhaustion if you had someone else, a village, but we don't. We're all trying to find our solace in the internet through false connections - likes and comments and glimpses into the good parts of another woman's life that feel like relationship-building, but it's not. You may be making friends on the internet, but you still sit in your house alone every day and the saddest part is there are women around you doing the same thing, but no one wants to make the effort to build that village. If they do, we spend our hours together checking our phones. One up side I've found to all of this is that I hold onto the relationships that I am able to build more intentionally, but when you move away from each other it isn't quite the same. You still long for a community. You still feel lonely trying to do it all yourself.

Simple things Sunday is about slowing down and capturing life’s everyday details. Taking joy in the simple things is the focus and Sunday is the day we gather together to reflect on our experiences from the week and share our photos with each other.

52 IN 2014 • WEEKS 24 + 25 + 26 + 27

24/52

06.14.2014

You seem to have a gift for creating your own haven. You are spunky and spirited, a conversationalist and seeker of answers. It's a gift of yours that I often fail to cultivate. It's something that every adult longs for their children to be, but we all simultaneously become annoyed by these attributes and the endless noise. When we're out in nature, it all changes. I can see that it becomes a spiritual thing for you. It nurtures your soul to get your hands stained with berry juice and dirt caked to your feet. As we walk through rows of strawberries or wade into a creek, all of your questions seem to have no bearing. I hear no, 'What's that?' or even shouts of praise. I only see an eagerness to explore, to soak it all in, to run wild and free.

25/52

06.20.2014

When I'm an old woman that has succumb to a quiet life and been left with my thoughts, I know that I'll often pull these beach days from my arsenal of memories and dwell on them for hours. I will savor the way time seemed to move slow in the moment, but the day seemed to pass quickly. A small smile will come to my face, then crack open wide as my heart breaks at the thought of your bravery growing until you ran straight into the water and kept walking past your waist, oblivious to why the water was getting deeper. You fell into a crashing wave, face first, and Papa had to run and pull you out as he unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile - he smiled not in mocking you, but in appreciation of your innocence. Memories from your first few months of life feel so foggy in my mind, but I hold onto the moments that I marveled at you and all I could think was, 'You're magical.' That thought follows me now, two years later as you dig in the sand and run on the beach. 'You're magical' rings through the air and I'm sure it will continue singing your praises long into your adulthood. I can only imagine your wedding day. As you stand and join yourself with another, tears are sure to stream down my cheeks and I know my heart will still be singing, 'you're magical.' As I watch you nurse and rock your babies to sleep one day, I know I'll still be thinking, 'you're magical.'

26/52

06.21.2014

Your imagination and ability to pretend is starting to blossom. You share your food with your animals and put them to bed, you like to put things on your head to serve as a hat and do 'magic tricks,' and I am often standing still with a smile on my face as you 'zoom zoom' around me to shouts of 'to da rescue!' It brings me unimaginable joy to watch you bridge that gap between baby and kid each day.

27/52

07.06.2014

We took a little road trip out of the city in search of some seclusion and quiet. We packed a picnic and sat on a rock that we originally thought was large enough for the three of us, but it seems we take up more space than we thought. Our feet dangled in the creek water as we talked of the things we wanted for our family, one of them being to be surrounded by beauty and nature daily. After we polished off our tuna pita sandwiches, watermelon, and bag of chips, we waded through the water and just wandered. Papa and I looked at each other in disbelief as you became the bravest soul right before our eyes. You were fearless, running into the water waist high without a care. I had to run to keep up with you and make sure you didn't get swept away by the current. It was a day that nourished our souls and brought us closer as a family.

'A portrait of my daughter once a week, every week, in 2014.'

I'm linking up over at Practisting Simplicity.

SIMPLE THINGS

sharing pasta salad with mister monkey • 'i drawed a bwoon!' • waiting for bread to rise • freshly planted succulents

the beginning of our urban fire escape garden • her first water balloon • swinging in the sunshine

scooting closer + trying to make a new friend • a splash pad rainbow

Simple things Sunday is about slowing down and capturing life’s everyday details.

Taking joy in the simple things is the focus and Sunday is the day we gather together

to reflect on our experiences from the week and share our photos with each other.

#simplethingssunday

EXHALE.

After months of unrest and everything feeling clumsy, not quite right - there it is, the morning of our past, unexpected but cherished. We all awake with a smile and exhale. We begin breakfast, all of us moving around each other without a word, tending to our contribution. The coffee is brewing. The pancakes are on the griddle. The bacon is sitting on a paper towel, grease soaking into the stamped circles. I exhale. We gather together without thought, unintentionally. We're drawn to each other in the moments of waiting, while the bacon pops are too wild for comfort or the coffee isn't ready to be stirred yet. We look in each other's eyes and smile, saying nothing important with our words, but everything we've all needed to hear from one another in the hard moments of memory with our body language. 'I'm here. You're here. This is what we do. We drink. We eat. We cook. We laugh. We dance. We sing. We love. We kiss. We hug. We exhale.' is what our mornings spent in the kitchen say.

This post is a part of Five Minute Friday over at lisajobaker.com. 'On Fridays we silence the inner critic . . . and write on one word for five minutes.' Come write with us.

TAKING STOCK • 01

I've done something similar to this a few times before (here and here), but I've been thinking of making it a regular thing here. I really enjoy taking the time to refocus and leave bits of our season of life here regularly and it seems especially fitting with Summer approaching.

making • a lot lately and it feels good - dresses and graphics and some delicious meals
cooking • sourdough cinnamon raisin bread
drinking • leftover coffee from this morning
reading • the Goldfinch - I'm almost 200 pages in and I'm still not sure what to think.
wanting • a new camera lens
looking • for inspiration wherever I go
playing • with finger puppets and plastic animals with Ev
wasting • a lot of time lately, but I'm working on that
sewing • headbands - coming soon to the shop if I like the results
wishing • for longer weekends
enjoying • writing about this city
waiting • for Ev to wake up from a nap so we can head out for a walk
liking • fresh fruits and salads these days - my grocery bill is not
wondering • what it would feel like to have two children
loving • our neighborhood and church
hoping • to build a good life here
marveling • at how productive you can be when you really try
needing • another household income
smelling • coffee and strawberries
wearing • pajamas and it's 2 PM - I love my job.
following • this blog
noticing • that Ev is stringing together sentences now
knowing • it will all work out
thinking • always - my mind is never silent
feeling • like I need to work on finding peace in the midst of chaos
bookmarking • weaving tutorials - for when there are 6 more hours in a day
opening • up to the idea of initiating friendships with other women - this introvert thing is getting lonely
laughing • at my kid, always - she's my favorite.
feeling • a bit overwhelmed with life, but we'll make it.

I saw this over here. Leave a link below if you join in!

Ten on Ten • May

I stumbled upon the ten on ten project a few months ago and the idea really resonated with me, but we were staying in D.C. and at that point in our lives every little thing was heavy and hard to manage. I read the words 'finding life and beauty in the ordinary things of our day to day' and thought yes, that's something I can get behind and participate in. There is so much noise on the internet these days and the world is so linked through blogs and news and Pinterest and Twitter (and whatever social media app I'm trying to ignore because when will it end?). I would love to be apart of spreading snippets of beauty into people's lives and bringing them joy. That's really what I want this space to be about everyday. That's really what I want my life to be about everyday. Technically this is ten on eleven, but I knew that I would want to document Mother's Day and I've been trying to live out our days a bit slower with less technology involved, so I didn't want to be behind the camera all day two days in a row.

It's been a little over a month since we moved here and I've just now begun to have the energy to attempt to get into a rhythm again. One of the funniest things about moving to a new place for me is that even if you worked hard to get there and you want to be there, it never 100% feels like home from the start. This is the closest I've ever been to feeling 100% at home right away, but it has still taken some effort and adjustments and we're still working on making this place feel like ours. Most days we still feel tourists just fumbling around the city. I'm convinced that there are certain days and moments and places that all add up to make a place home. It's like a cosmic jar of fireflies, but coffee shops and laughs and wanders through the park replace the fireflies and they all come together in layers to paint a picture that makes you say 'this is home to me and I never want to leave it.' I've been craving a day like that, a moment like that since we got here as a reassurance I guess. I'm not sure. I know we're supposed to be here. I spent the last five or more years of my life homesick for this place, a place I was never able to call home until now. I used to come and see those city moms with their city kids and I'd carry a longing home with me to someday raise a baby here, but I was sure it would never come to be. So I know it's home. I just need to collect a few more fireflies for that jar of mine.

We got a good start on that this weekend. Alex wandered down to the corner bodega (It's really just a grocery store, but I can't help but love that people call them bodegas here.) the night before and surprised me with a bouquet of flowers. He'd been gone for four days and if you know us, you know we don't fare well apart so when I questioned him about the flowers he responded 'I had to come home with flowers. It felt like I was coming home from a deployment!.' I opened the door as Ev rounded the corner at a marathon pace squealing with uncontainable joy. Papa was on one knee to scoop his girl up and she spotted those flowers and pulled them right out of his arms - 'FWOWAHS! Oh, dank you, Papa! Dank you.' and she sniffed and sniffed them. For as long as I've known him, I've told him not to buy me flowers. There's something morbid about watching something so beautiful die a quicker death than if you just left them in the ground where they belong. I'm warming up to the idea as the years pass though. Among many other reasons, that's how I knew he was a keeper - I told him not to buy me flowers and he did anyway because what kind of woman doesn't like fresh flowers? He always manages to pick the ones that really do look like me.

So I woke up to these flowers on Sunday morning and smiled. I appreciated them the only way I know how - with a camera in my hand and the morning light streaming through the windows. We cooked a banana pancake breakfast, packed a picnic, and caught the train up to Park Slope for church. Ev was proud to present a Peony to me after church and this may sound ridiculous, but it was absolutely the most perfect flower I've ever held in my hands. I never knew it, but it seems Peonies are my favorite flower. We walked a few blocks to Prospect Park and staked our claim on a patch of shade with adequate grass. Picnic spot picking is always a big production for this family. The weather was flawless. We finished our picnic and put Ev down for a nap. We sat in the grass next to her and we both exhaled for the first time in weeks. We talked like we haven't talked in months and sat in silence like we haven't sat in silence in months with the sounds of a guitar playing nearby. Ev woke up and we all wandered and took pictures and wandered some more until our feet were blistered and our legs were aching. It was a heart filling, soul nourishing kind of day.

P.S. They've reset the votes over on Top Baby Blogs. It would be really lovely if you all would send

in a vote for HMRM. Being listed on the front page over there has brought a lot of growth to this

little space and I'm excited about the things to come - I'd love for you all to be a part of it.