Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Me & My Girl

I don't know how we got so lucky. She's the best baby girl ever. I never tire of her, never just want to get away. Never want to just put her down, honestly. We play all day. Even when she's sick, she's full of smiles. I've been really fighting sadness lately, but with her nearby - it can never overtake me. She's teaching me about what's important.

I think I'll always remember New York City as the place where all my dreams came true. And where every day was worth being this excited about. And where her daddy and I yelled "no! sleep! til! brooklyn!" more than we ever thought we could. I'm pretty sure that's what she's yelling here ...

But most of all, I'll remember it for feeling loved. For finding love. For being in love. For finding a way to teach love. Every Tuesday morning breaks my heart. I sort of forget I'm leaving until the alarm goes off. Then I remember, and I pray for her.

Every morning I leave I pray for her.

All those places with power. From the mountains to the sea, across and around our earth - from all the places I've touched and have touched me. I pray their power will protect her. That somehow I can leave those pieces of me behind to keep her safe. To tie her to me. I drum them up from my very center.

And then I kiss her palm.

I don't know if it works, but I do know as I shut the door behind me, I leave unwhole.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Monday, January 19, 2009


We're surviving.

This is week three. So good luck, perhaps.

I'm dyng a bit every tiem I say goodbye to her, but she seems to be adapting. Keep your fingers crossed for more progress (at least for her) this week.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

I Hate my Phone.

Leaving her is hard enough. Knowing I cannot at all times be available to her? Enrages me like little else.

So, for those who would try to reach me and worry if I don't pick up, fret not. I'm just busy lamenting my lack of communication apparatus and writing nasty emails to Palm in my head ....

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I dont know how to put words to this.

This ache I have. The feeling of being totally empty inside. Or rather, is it possible? - making myself empty inside so I can somehow put one foot in front of the other. Somehow get on the train, walk the sidewalks, sit at this desk. Read, examine, contemplate.

I do not know how to breathe without listening for her breath. I do not know how to constantly be aware of her. How to not constantly be ready to reach for her. My stomach is in knots, for the worry of her. I'm sick all the time now. I have a headache that won't go away. Stupidly, leaving her makes me think a part of me should hurt like that. It's almost a relief. Thinking "my head hurts" instead of constantly dwelling on my heart.

Can people tell when they see me? Can they sense the sadness? Do they know I am constantly on the verge of tears? It doesn't matter, I guess, either way. But I want them to know. I am greater than what you see right now. There's a little girl who loves me! And, even, please don't waste my time. I've give up my most precious moments to be here. In this place. Away.

I cannot think. I imagine this is torture somewhere, in some long ago foreign place. Where they force you to leave your heart behind. I know people do this every day. I have friends that manage. But for some reason I cannot manage. I am not strong enough. Not brave enough.

I have to just decide this is what I'm doing. Commit to it, somehow. But so far that hasn't been possible. So far I've just resigned. Resigned to being incomplete.

Perhaps it does get better.

All I know, though, this instant is I won't be better until I can see her. See her happy and safe. Hold her this afternoon.

Friday, January 09, 2009

We Made It

I'd write more, but I'm busy playing on the floor with my favorite girl in the world. We survived this week.

I'm proud of both of us.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

We dropped her off this morning.

She's been there an hour or so now. I successfully didn't sob until we got in the hallway. I didn't want her to see me cry, I didn't want to give her reason to be scared. But when I turned around for one last peek through the glass before we left, well. I mean these last few weeks she's seemed so big. But there in some strange woman's arms in that new, foreign room she's never looked smaller.

Sam went to work. I went to the gym.

And here's why I'm really blogging as I'm sure you're sick to death of my whining.

No one warned me. No one told me I'd never feel so at home, so beautiful in my body as I did when I was pregnant. I had faith in it like I never had. I trusted my body to take care of me and the babe and it came through with shining colors. Even in those weeks right after. I felt good. I dont' think I have ever felt so good. I felt like I could do anything I put my mind to. That my body, and I, were limitless in power and possibility.

And now I'm here. In this place that feels dangerously close to where I was before all that - and I don't want to be there. I want to cultivate that feeling of strength and health and beauty in my "regular" life. In my "regular" self and body.

And Sam needs time to himself with Maire.

So I'm starting to make concerted efforts. Today I went to the gym. My goal is twice a week. Never on days I work. But on days I have Maire all day. It feels I'm missing less then. Days when I leave it will be Sam holding her. It feels safer then.

And I'm getting up at ungodly hours to pump anyway, so I'll do some yoga once a week too. Twice if I'm feeling ambitious.

So there you go. I'm unhappy. That's no secret. But I'm taking steps to combat that. It's not just about weight, it's about stress, anxiety and sense of self. This is just the first half.

I want Maire to have a Mommy she can be proud of and who shows her good ways to live. That's truly my resolution.

So in an effort to make myself accountable, and just be brutally honest (with you as well, mostly, for myself) here we go.

Step one. Day one.

Stats: 177.2 lbs./ 5'8"/27.4 BMI
Treadmill: 20 minutes 3min walk/1 min run

It's not much but there it is. I want to feel beautiful and strong again. I want to be happy for my girl. It's not fair to rest all my happiness on her. It's easy, but just not fair.

It's so easy. But so not fair.

Monday, January 05, 2009

How Do I leave My Heart Behind?

These last few weeks have ben brutal for me. I know not every one feels as crazy as I do about all this, and I know some people go back to work full-time right away.

But somehow I've been lucky enough to get to wait five months, and and I find myself in the week and just heart broken. I feel like my heart may come out of my chest when I think of that moment I turn around and walk out the door with her still inside. I have nightmares about what could happen when I'm not there. I can't sleep for them. Then I finally do fall asleep and she makes some adorable coo and I end up staying awake another hour just watching her. Relishing her. Wishing for more time.

But the thing is, there isn't any more time. These months are flying by and will only continue to. Whether I'm home or at work, there will never be enough. Do I wish (more than anything I have ever wished for in my life) that I could stay home? Yes.

Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.

But I can't. I can't because I want her to have a home someday. One where we can paint the walls and she has a swing in the backyard. I want her to go to college anywhere she chooses. For theater, for art. To be a chef, a doctor, a classical pianist. Anything. I want to take her to China for her 8th birthday. Ireland for Solstice. Paris in the Spring. I want to show her the world.

And, well, that kind of stuff has a price. And I won't pretend I haven't said out loud none of it matters. Not if I could wake up every morning to her smile and spend every minute of my day playing with her, singing to her, holding her.

But, as much as it hurts me to say, that's not what's best. For her or me. What's best for now is me going to work so I can give her the world. And her going to meet other babies. Having adventures of her own.

And I can live with that - I think. (We'll soon find out.)

But I am only willing to try to live with that 20 hours a week.

Because I love her too much. I need her as much as she needs me right now. And I'm okay with saying that out loud. It's true. And I'm sure it will change and grow - our relationship will over these next years; in this next lifetime ahead of us.

But right now, I just need her to know I love her more than anything else in this world. I need her so desperately to know that. Because I know she loves me. And I'm the luckiest girl in the world for it.

I just want to do good by her.

She so deserves nothing less.

Daddy's Bruiser

Current most oft' used nickname: "Sluggo"


Here are some photos of Maire opening her gifts Christmas morning. She thoroughly enjoyed the wrapping paper. :)

Her first Christmas morning gift: "To Think I Saw It All On Mulberry Street" from Grandma and Grandpa Stiers.

I love this. Sam called her name and she's totally ready to hear what he's going to say to her.

Me, opening my gift from Sam. (Lovely and perfect as always. The gift, not me, of course.)

Maire waiting for her gift from Santa to be released from the packaging. (A teether/toy butterfly her Daddy picked out special for her.)

How every kid ends Christmas morning, right?

Showing off her Christmas morning romper I got her.

Our first Christmas morning together.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

my girl

my reason to love and be forever thankful for 2008
my reason to look wonderfully forward to every minute of 2009
the soft sigh I can hear rooms away
my peace
my calm
my happy new year