Elf hats and magic

Willow,

A few weeks ago you were given a plain red elf hat to decorate for your holiday program this weekend.

We wandered through Hobby Lobby to find decorations, and you very intentionally selected a rainbow feather garland, multi colored jingle bells, and zebra fabric.

I had to catch myself as I started telling you that your decorations weren't very Christmas-y.  True, you will probably be the only zebra rainbow elf on stage, but it doesn't matter one bit if you are proud of what you created.

It's amazing how much kiddos can teach us grown up folk.  It's so easy to get caught up in what is supposed to be and miss the magic of what is.

So shine on, my fabulous little elf :)

Love, Mom

Traditions - Putting up the tree

Guin & Willow,

Winter time is so full of traditions in our family - nothing overly spectacular or noteworthy to the fly on the wall watching us set up our holiday decorations, but little things that I'm so glad we get to share with you.

I've made a point over the last few years to keep things simple when we decorate for the holidays.  When I was a kid my favorite part of Christmas decorating was watching my parents put up a string of blue glass bells.  They were a wedding gift that my parents received, and I don't think they are even meant to be holiday decorations.  But of all the sparkly ornaments and buckets of decorations, the blue bells were always my favorite, and it took a little convincing before my mom would give them to me, but she finally let me take them when we got our first house.  It's officially Christmastime for me when these go up.

We also have the same fake Christmas tree that my family used when I was a kid.  It's been put up and taken apart more times than I can remember, and eventually it's going to lose all of its "needles" and look like a Charlie Brown tree, but I'll still probably use it because I love it.  When we would set up the tree as kids, my dad would have us lay under the tree and spin it to put the lights on instead of awkwardly walking around the tree in circles with a string of lights.  I have such good memories of laying under that tree with my brother and sister, spinning it around in circles.  We adopted that technique when we inherited the tree, and it was awesome to watch the two of you under the tree the same way I used to do.

Also, your choice of protective eye wear for the tree mechanics was pretty superb.

Another special thing I loved about decorating for Christmas as a kid was my stocking.  My Nana hand made my stocking when I was a baby.  It's missing some of the sequins and details after 30 Christmases, but it makes me smile to hang it up every year.  

When the two of you were born, my mom wanted to make special stockings for you too.  She cross stitched these stockings for you - every inch of the front of these stockings is hand stitched.

As much as I love the traditions and nostalgic things I get to pass on to you, I am really enjoying creating our own traditions too.  As we dug out the boxes and boxes of ornaments, Dad and I decided that we weren't going to unpack any of them this year.  The last few years our tree has been decorated with ornaments that wind up buried under your beautiful preschool artwork, so we decided this year we would leave our tree empty so we could add art to it over the next month.  

Today's contribution to the tree was a paper chain.  It was so much fun to sit together at the table and get glue everywhere.  We made a 37 foot paper chain to wrap around our tree, and I can't wait to see what other creations we can add.  I think this may be the start of a new tradition.  

Love,

Mom

Traditions - First Snow

Guin & Willow,

As we are moving into the cooler seasons I've been thinking about how many awesome traditions we have in our family that we get to share with you.  Some have been passed down and others have been new ones we've started our little family, so I wanted you to know where these came from as you grow with them.

Since the autumn season that I was pregnant with Guin, every year on the first snowfall I have gathered up a small bag of the season's first snow to add it to a bath.  This originally came from a pagan tradition to celebrate the changing of the seasons, and I loved its total impracticality and whimsy, so it stuck.

The first dusting of snow this year came in early October, so daddy went outside before the sun came along to melt it away and gathered enough snow off of our ripe pumpkin plants for our baths.

There are bad people in the world. But there are good people too.

My girls,

There comes a time when I have to accept that you will not always have a golden innocent view of the world.  You are still so little, but times like these make me realize that you will inevitably have to learn that there is suffering.  And to be honest, I am having a really, really hard time wrapping my head around it.

A week ago, a ten year old girl was taken during the short time that she was alone on her walk to school.  It happened in a neighborhood very close to ours.  The police and the community have turned the town upside down looking for this little girl, and everyone is holding their breath, waiting to hear any sort of information.

I know that every parent I see is holding their kids a little tighter.  All of us are thinking "what if that had been my child?"  My heart literally will not let me imagine what her parents are feeling.  For me, this situation is the absolute worst thing that could ever happen.  It is so overwhelming to know that no matter how good of a mom I am, no matter what I teach you or where we live, there are elements of your lives that I will not have control over.  There will be moments in your life where I can not protect you.  I am realizing now, more so than ever, how completely exposed, raw and vulnerable it is to be a parent.  Two pieces of my soul are existing in the world outside of my body, outside of what I can control.  And I am scared.

It is so hard to explain to you that there are some people in the world who would want to harm children.  You ask so many questions because it seems unfathomable to you that there are bad people out there.  Explaining to you that "bad people" don't wear funny costumes or have villainous laughs, and look just like good people... it's such a big concept for you to understand.  There are people in our world who do terrible, terrible things.  I am so glad your teachers are talking to you about it at school.  I feel bad that I didn't talk to you about it sooner.  I know it seems uncomfortable and redundant to hear "stranger safety" from all of the concerned adults in your life, but it just feels like one of the only things we can do to help control it from ever happening.

But in the darkness of all of this, I do not want you to lose faith in the good of the people around you.  I do not want to make you skeptical of every stranger you see.  In my 29 years I don't think I've ever met a person who would deliberately harm a child.  While bad things happen, there are so many incredible humans for you to know, love and experience in this world.  Even in the wake of this little girl's disappearance, hundreds of people in the community have come forward and spent the entire week searching tirelessly for a child that they never met.  People everywhere are offering up prayers and thoughts and would help restore this girl to her family in a heartbeat.  We are surrounded by good people who do good things for each other every single day, and that is the norm.  We have to focus just as much on celebrating the people who do selfless things for each other, who keep on going in the face of hardships, who inspire others, who are kind,  and who love.  My goal every day is to be an example of this so you will have these qualities too.  We can not let the darkness of one stomp out the light of so many others.

So forgive me my girls for being such a mess this week.  Forgive me for hugging you until you have to ask me to stop.  Forgive me for denying you the independence to walk to school as you get older, and for my hesitation to ever let you leave my side.  I will never regret keeping you close.

Love,
Mom

First day of Preschool

Willow,

These last few weeks have been so full of changes.  I think our entire family is just working on finding our feet again in one way or another.  Today you start your second year of preschool, and looking back at the photo of you from your first day last fall, I realize what a huge change you have made over the past year.

What a difference a year makes - you are probably a foot taller and have a lot more hair... but beyond that you have grown up from a baby into a strong willed brilliant little girl in what feels like overnight.  I can't wait to see what changes the next year brings for you.  Happy second year of preschool sunshine!

 The last countdown gummy bear

Love,
Mom

Consequences

Willow,
I just spent the last hour in the kitchen watching you kick and scream and pick up pieces of trash as slowly as you possibly could. I have lost every last ounce of patience I can muster.

You have been having a really hard time adjusting to Guin being at school all day. You and I have some really great time together, and you are amazing on your own. You have the room to create yourself and I have been enjoying our time together. But as soon as we pick Guin up from school, you start whining and throwing tantrums. It's obvious that you're not doing well with the change in our schedule, but I'm at a loss as to how to fix it.

Today, after a fight over a broken balloon, you asserted yourself by dumping the full kitchen garbage all over the floor. And we sat together in the kitchen until you cleaned up every last piece. It would have been so much easier to just clean up the mess myself. But you have to be responsible for your behavior, and this is the only way I can think of to use this as a teaching moment for you.

And it's hard. Teaching you instead of taking the easy route, keeping myself from screaming at you when I'm just out of patience, holding my ground even when you hold my heart and I hate to see you upset. And I feel guilty that your life has been uprooted enough that you feel like this is the best way to get attention...

The funniest part is that I remember doing the same thing when I was a kid.  I was mad at my dad for something, so I dumped out his entire rack of CDs.  Hundreds of them.  And I had to sit and pick them all back up.  And organize them.  By artist.  In alphabetical order.  See? You're just lucky we have digital music now.

So here I will sit. One egg shell piece at a time, until you clean up your mess, hoping I'm doing the right thing for us both. I hope you have children just. Like. You.

Mom

First day of Kindergarten

Guin,
This morning was an important one.  We got up early.  Took the last count down gummy bear from the jar.  Packed your lunchbox.  Put on your new shoes, clothes and backpack.

And I've never seen you so ready for anything.

One of your new teachers was welcoming you all to the school, and he said "nobody lives here in this building.  We all get the opportunity to come here together, every day, to celebrate this great thing called life!"  I hope we can all keep that perspective as you move through your school years.

I'm pretty sure everyone's first day of school should involve their teachers playing live jazz music.

And in you went.  I didn't even cry!  Until we started walking away after dropping you off.  Then I wept.  

I hope you have such a grand adventure!

Love,

Mom

Mommy's not ready for kindergarten

Guin,

After months of applications and wait lists and research and pulling my hair out, we were finally able to secure you a spot at the school we thought was the best fit for you.  We were pretty fortunate to get you a spot in the art immersion school that we'd been hoping to send you to for the last two years.  The process of choosing your school was more insane than it was for me to choose what University I wanted to attend.  What if we made the wrong choice?  What if you could have done better somewhere else?  What if I'm pushing my own agenda on you by sending you to an art school? What if my decision about your education messed up your entire future?  (If you haven't already learned this about me, you can see that I tend to jump to worst case scenario situations very quickly.)

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about what the reality of sending you to school looks like.  Since you were born I've been with you for the majority of the day.  Every day.  For five and a half years.  So while I'm still sitting in the "I can't believe my baby is old enough to go to Kindergarten already" space that a lot of parents find themselves in, I'm also realizing how strange it's going to be to be away from you for seven hours a day, five days a week.  Again, I know it's silly - it's not like I'm sending you off to boarding school where I won't see you for months at a time... but it's still hard.

I'm also realizing that this transition marks the end of the time where I get to be in charge of what you are learning.  This is your time to start seeing the world without my influence.  And it's scary for me.  Dad and I decided a long time ago that public school was what we wanted for both you and your sister, because you will learn more about real life by being around your peers than we could ever teach you trying to educate you ourselves.  But now that it's here, the idea of sending you out into the world to learn these things is becoming a little harder for me to handle than I had anticipated.

I'm worried about the logistics of things - how are we going to pay tuition, how are we going to get all of the scheduling taken care of, normal worries for me... but really those are covering up the bigger worries.

I worry that you will get picked on.  The truth is, you will be.  And I've seen how easily you make friends on the playground, how eager you are to be with other kids and your strengths as a leader, and I know you'll pick yourself up and be better for it.

I worry that you will be scared.  You might be.  But I know that you have always adapted to change much easier than I ever have.  And I know that you know you are loved.

I worry that you will struggle with being different - working with your food allergy has always been something you've taken in stride, but I know it will become hard for you when everyone at school is having cupcakes or pizza and you know you can't have them.  I know you will learn that making decisions for your own wellness, especially the hard ones, will better your health.

I worry that you will struggle with your family being different, not knowing how to answer the questions about why you don't go to church and why your mom has a rainbow sticker on her car.  I hope you continue to carry the sense of self I see in you every day as you come up against these questions.  I hope you are able to dance as freely as you do now, and you are able to say to yourself and anyone else that you are loved, you love yourself, and that's what really matters.

I'm worried that I haven't equipped you with all of the tools you'll need to navigate this. I know I haven't.  And I know you will learn them on your own.

I suppose at the end of the day, no matter what happens I'll be here to help you through.  I'll laugh with you to hear about your adventures, and I'll wipe your tears when you cry.  It's not going to be easy, but life isn't supposed to be.  So here's to new adventures.  I can't wait to see the person you'll become.

Love,
Mom

When life gives you a busted finger...

Guin & Willow,

We have had a pretty rough couple of weeks.  Daddy's grandpa Emil passed away, so we went to Alliance this weekend to attend the funeral.  Along with that came a long list of questions from both of you about death that were incredibly challenging for us to answer.  We also learned that a giant wildfire was burning dangerously close to Oma and Opa's house in the mountains - so close that firefighters came in to protect it.  We learned that many of their neighbors lost their homes, and that the fire is still burning out of control.

It had the potential to be a completely heavy, chaotic, depressing and stressful weekend.  But I want you both to know how lucky you are to have a family like you do.  Lots and lots of aunts, uncles and cousins that you have rarely seen were together in one place, and instead of being melancholy about the fact that we were  all together for a funeral, I've never seen so many smiles.  We hugged, shared food, teased each other, you two ran around with cousins that you made quick friends with, and made the best of our time together.

You are especially fortunate to have people like your Oma and Opa in your lives.  They worked so incredibly hard to create their home in the mountains.  Many years of sweat, tears, nerf wars and laughter went into making their house a home.  And even though they spent most of the weekend not knowing the fate of their house, I was humbled at how positive they stayed.  They joked about getting the hot dogs and marshmallows out to roast and make the most of the fire.  When they learned of other neighbors homes that were lost, Oma cried for them.  When it was time for Great Grandpa's funeral, they stepped out of their own challenges to be present with their family.  And after it was all done, we went to Dairy Queen to enjoy the simple joy of chocolate ice cream all over the faces of the small people in our lives.

Last night I painted Guin's finger splint to look like a T-Rex.  And as I was painting it, I realized just how important it is to keep a positive mindset, even when things get dark.  To create laughter where it may otherwise disappear.  I was so glad to know what a shining example the two of you will have of this in your lives.  They say "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  I suppose in our family, when life gives you a busted finger, you paint your cast like a T-Rex, with eyelashes and a flower in her hair.  And you laugh.

I'm proud to be a part of this.

Love you,
Mom

Slammed door, broken finger, stitches, and meditation

Guin & Willow,

Today was a really rough day.  Three hours in the emergency room, a broken finger and six stitches.  And I am so proud of both of you.

I got home from work today as Daddy and a friend were bottling the latest batch of beer.  We were chatting in the kitchen while you guys were playing.  You chase each other often, so I didn't think much of it as you both ran into the bathroom and I heard the door slam.

You've been told a million billion times not to slam doors.  We've made you stand and practice opening and closing the doors the correct way until you just can't stand it anymore.  I'm certain I've said "you're going to smash someone's fingers in the door" about a hundred and seven times.  So it wasn't surprising when I heard Guin's scream immediately after the slamming of the door.  But it wasn't a "mom, Willow made me mad" scream, it was a "something is horribly wrong" scream.

Guin, it took about two seconds for me to look at your poor bloody finger to know we needed to go to the hospital.  I scooped you up in my arms and did my best not to completely freak out.  I wrapped your hand in a towel with ice, put you in the car without even grabbing your shoes, and tried to figure out what emergency room we were going to.

Willow, the look on your face when you saw how worried I was said it all.  I asked Daddy not to discipline you for slamming the door because of that look on your face.  We didn't need to tell you what you had done wrong.  You were on the verge of tears and rode in silence all the way to the hospital.

Even though it was about 15 minutes away and there were two hospitals that were closer to us, we went to children's hospital, and I'm so glad we did.  The doctors were great, and they made the entire experience so much better for all of us.  After looking at your poor little finger to see what the damage was, they came in to give you a numbing shot so they could clean it up without it hurting.  You were so brave, and I can't begin to tell you how horrible it was to hold you in my lap while you screamed in pain from the anesthesia.  I've watched you cry during shots before and it broke my heart, but this was horrible for you, and I cried along with you.

You immediately felt relief from the pain after that though, and you were such a big girl sitting still for your x-ray and waiting patiently for the doctors to come in for your stitches.  You became very nervous as the doctors showed us your x-ray of the break in your finger and started talking about stitches.  It still hurt you when they were washing your finger up, and what you did made me the proudest mama ever - you closed your eyes, and breathed with all of your might.  You stayed in control of your breath, and stayed in control of your body.  Most adults have a hard time doing that - and there you were, strong as can be, breathing through what had to have been so, so scary for you.

They moved you to the child sized table to start your stitches, and you let your nervousness come over you.  You kept looking at your poor swollen finger and looking nauseous, so I held your other hand and asked you to close your eyes.  As they started the stitches, you tuned into your breath, and we meditated together. I talked you through imagining a walk on the beach - the sand on your toes, the water on your legs, even a picnic lunch with a tuna sandwich and lemonade.  It only took about 5 minutes for them to put your six stitches in, and even though you could feel it, you stayed so focused and calm.  The doctor said how incredibly impressed with you she was.  I cried a little again, because I was in awe of you.  I know we do yoga and practice meditations for fun, but today showed me that they are teaching you real life skills.  You knew just how to use your tools when you needed them.

Willow, I have never seen you sit so respectfully and quietly for such a long time.  You played puzzles on Daddy's phone, and occasionally came over to comfort your sister.  You admitted to every doctor who came in the room that it was in fact you who slammed your sister's finger in the door, and that you were sorry.  It was beautiful to see you discover your own strength and power, and how much you love your sister sure came through.  

I am so, so proud of both of you.  And I'd say if we've made it 5 and a half years without a trip to the emergency room for stitches, we've done pretty good.  Here's hoping we can make it at least that long again.

Love,
Mom

Dandelions

Willow,
These last few days with you have been really, really hard. Yesterday you fought with your sister more times than I can count. You had three tantrums before lunch. You hit me. And bit me. And called me stupid. You pushed every button I had, and at the end of the day I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. This morning as I fought with you to get clean underwear on for school, what little patience I had disappeared yet again, and I felt defeated.

So while we were out driving today,, you noticed a giant field of dandelions and asked if you could go pick them. My initial reaction was "no... I don't have the energy..." but we stopped anyway.

It's incredible how something simple like stopping to run in a dandelion field can completely recharge us both and overshadow how hard coexisting can be for the two of us sometimes.

Thank you for being patient with me, and for making me smile. I love you.

Mom

Yes moments

Guin and Willow -

Today we made the biggest mess I think I've ever let you make in the house.  I've always thought it would be awesome to finger paint a wall, so today for your play date with your school friends I set up the tarps and paints in your toy room.  To be honest I was probably more excited about it than you guys were to start out with.

We got the four of you in your smocks and poured the paint into the bowls... and let you have at it.  At first you were hesitant, like you were afraid I was going to change my mind and reprimand you for making a mess.  It was funny encouraging you to let loose and actually get paint on the walls.

It didn't take long for all of you to loosen up - once you gave into the squishy paint in your hands and the freedom to make a complete mess, you guys had more fun than I've seen you have in a LONG time. 

The laughter and freedom and creativity that started to shine through was so cool to witness.  It made me want to have more "yes" moments with you.  Yes, you can finger paint the wall with no reservations.  Yes you can paint with your feet.

  

Yes you can empty the bottles of paint.  Yes you can jump up high and make handprints.  Yes I will pick your paint covered self up so you can reach the top of the wall.

Yes you can take the bottles of paint and splash it all over the wall.  And the ceiling.  And the carpet where it's not covered up.  Because your smiles are worth it.  

  I love that we have the space and ability in our home to make messes.  I hope that as you grow you take the things you are learning now and you are able to apply them to the life you live.  Enjoy the process.  Get messy.  Have fun.  

And occasionally, (even if it means scrubbing paint out of the carpet with vinegar and soap), 

say yes.

Love, 

Mom

Sleepyhead Mommy

Guin & Willow,

I wanted to share with you the first things I see when I wake up.  This song by Frances England explains exactly how I start every day.  As you drag my sleepy head out of bed you remind me to have excitement for the day ahead, and I look forward to them every morning.

When I wake up early in the mornin'
The first thing I always see
is your smiling eyes dancing
big circles right around me

I'm a sleephead mommy don't wanna wake up
I wanna stay in bed some more
But the day's breaking early as always
So we get up and get out the door

A new day again, so much to do to comprehend
I'll show you my way and you can show me your way
and if in doubt, we'll just pretend.

When I wake up early in the morning
the first thing I always see
is a super hero magical princess
dancing circles right around me


I'm a sleephead mommy don't wanna wake up
I wanna stay in bed some more
But the day's breaking early as always
So we get up and get out the door


A new day again, so much to do to comprehend
I'll show you my way and you can show me your way
and if in doubt, we'll just pretend.

The girl in the bathroom

Willow,
tonight you made a lot of people smile.  I so love your view of the world and I hope you always have the confidence you carry yourself with now.

We were in the bathroom at Red Robin after a fun dinner for our "girl's night out."  As we were leaving the bathroom, a little girl and her mom walked in.  The girl was a few years older than you with long curly brown hair.  You immediately walked up to her, looked her right in the eye, took her little hand in yours and said "hi".  She smiled and said "hi" back.  Then you hugged her with all the might you had in your little body.  She hugged you back and smiled.

Then you looked up and me and said "mom, she's beautiful! I'm going to marry her!"
"Maybe someday" I responded with a smile.
"I want to marry a girl!" you told her mom.
"And that's super!" her mom said laughing.  (to be honest it was a relief that she wasn't weird about it.  That could have been awkward.)  She told me that just made her night, and her little girl just beamed.  

You took one more look at the pretty little girl, and then said "she's so beautiful!" as we left the bathroom.
And you talked about her for the rest of the night.  We got home and you found a purple Halloween spider ring and informed me that you would use it to marry "the girl in the bathroom."  The next morning you asked daddy if he knew "the girl in the bathroom"'s name.

I know you are three years old and you have NO idea what getting married actually means.  But this reminded me of my hope that you and your sister are able to grow up in an environment where you know that you are not judged for your emotions and decisions to marry (or not marry) whoever you want.  I hope by the time you are old enough to understand what getting married really means that it will be legal and accepted everywhere to really marry anyone you want.  And that's a cause I'll continue to fight for, so maybe someday you won't have to.

So my little pixie, I hope you continue to keep that confidence, and tell all of the people around you that they are beautiful.  Thanks as always for making mama smile :)

Love,
Mom

Mindy's Story. My Story.

Guin and Willow,

This is a letter that is meant for you to read when you have a much greater understanding of the world.  I have already answered a lot of questions for you as to why my sister is gone.  You know that she died before you were born.  You know that it was because she was very sick and took too much medicine that made her body stop working.  And as you get older and continue to ask questions, I will continue to answer them.  You will continue to learn the details of this story as you grow, but I wanted to put it down as I remember it for you to have in its entirety.


As with any story told by any one person, there are details that I don't know.  There are things that I remember and things that I don't.  It has taken me eight years to get to a place where I can even write things as I experienced them, and I don't know that I will ever have the energy to put together the complete story.  So for today I will write this story not as Mindy's memoir, but as I experienced it.  I hope it gives you some insight as to how this shaped me.  

Mindy was 14 years old when things started changing for her.  She started having problems at school and found influence in people who helped her begin to self destruct.  She started experimenting with drugs at a very young age and began to rebel against authority, at school and at home.  Always a free spirit, fierce and passionate, Mindy did things the way she wanted and nobody could stand in her way.  She was diagnosed with bipoalr disorder, and while I'm not sure that was the most accurate diagnosis, she definitely had an internal struggle and was self medicating the best that she could.  She ran away from home frequently, being gone for days at a time.  My parents did everything they could think of to help her.  She had been reported as a runaway so many times that the police didn't seem to bother looking for her.  Mindy was in and out of drug rehabilitation programs, only staying long enough for the health insurance to determine that she was no longer in need of help and then beginning the cycle again.

I was in college at the time this was all happening.  I was pretty occupied in the life I was trying to build after graduating high school and I did my best to provide support for my sister while staying distant enough to focus on my future.  At the beginning of summer vacation in 2003, I took Mindy to get a haircut and a new outfit, hoping to help her find some self confidence and spend some quality time with her.  We laughed a lot that day, talked a lot about life.  We talked about our ideas of god and the ways of the world (I don't remember how it came to be, but we came to the realization that god could be a trash truck and we would never know because we are so naive in our human existence... we laughed and laughed at that idea...) We had an incredible day together.  I hugged her goodbye as I dropped her off at home that night, and I was off to do something that I thought was important.  That night she ran away again.  It was the last time I saw my sister.

Over the course of that summer, Dad and I decided we were going to move to Nebraska to go to school and start things off on a different foot.  So at the end of the summer we packed up our things and left Colorado.  I had hoped that Mindy would come home before we left so I could say goodbye.  We got settled in our new home and about a month later I got a random phone call from a number I didn't recognize.  I'm glad I answered, because she had found me.  She called to tell me she was doing well.  She had spent a while in downtown Denver, panhandling and living the life of a runaway with the people she wanted to be around.  She met an older man, in his thirties as she told me.  They left Colorado together and train hopped their way all the way to San Francisco.  She said she was enjoying herself, living life the way she wanted to, feeling absolutely free.  She said she would come visit me in Nebraska for Thanksgiving.  I told her to come home, or at least call our parents.  I don't remember if she ever did.  I will always regret not tracing that phone number to find out where she was.

December came, and I married your dad in a courthouse in Nebraska when I was 20 years old.  Mindy never knew that we got married, she was supposed to be a bridesmaid in our wedding scheduled in Denver in another year, and our decision was a little unplanned because of our financial situation.  I was working at a bank in Nebraska and living the life of a grown up.  Mindy's 15th birthday came and went with no word from her.  Christmas was really hard without her there, I remember the wrapped gifts for her sitting under the tree, waiting there for her hopefully until long after Christmas was over.

Mindy and I always had a great connection, even when we couldn't talk.  That didn't change, even when she was away.  Late in December I had a strange dream about her, seeing her looking horribly skinny, scary, not like herself - she was walking down the stairs toward me.  It made me afraid for her.  I kept a picture of her on my desk at work, and I told one of my coworkers who asked about her that I was increasingly worried.  The end of January crept in, and I had one more vivid, incredibly real dream.  Mindy was sitting on my bed with me, looking at me with her kind brown eyes.  She said simply, "you will never see me again."

On the afternoon of January 30th, I was working at the bank as usual.  I normally kept my cell phone on silent, but for some reason that day I forgot to turn the ringer off.  I got back from lunch in time to hear it ring.  It was my dad.  I don't remember what he said.  But I remember standing in the hallway of my office, dropping my phone, and falling to the floor.  Mindy was dead.

Most of what happened afterward is a blur.  I know I tried to call your dad at work and it took a half hour before I could reach him.  One of my kind coworkers drove me home in my car.  Marna, who we lived with at the time rushed home from work and packed some clothes in a bag for me as I wept and shook uncontrollably on my bedroom floor.  We headed home for Colorado in Marna's car, and I experienced my first panic attack in the dark on the highway.  We arrived home late that evening, and my entire family was sitting in my parent's living room.  Everyone was in shock, none of us knew what we were really doing there or where to go.  It was the most lost I've ever felt in my life.

My family did the best they could to piece together the details of that day.  Mindy had been living with the homeless crowd by the piers in San Francisco, and had been heavily into meth.  She had been to a warehouse party with some of the people she knew and had been on a drug binge.  She was in bad enough shape that some of the people who were with her decided to take her to a hospital.  They dropped her off in the emergency room and didn't look back.  She had to be resuscitated shortly after she arrived, and in that time the doctors were able to talk to her and ask who she was.  She gave them my name.  (I think that will always resonate with me, that even in her last moments, I was the person she thought of.)  Somehow they were able to link my name to hers in a runaway database to find out who she really was and the hospital staff found my parents.  When my parents were en route to the airport to get to San Francisco, they received another call informing them that her heart had stopped and they were unable to resuscitate her.  The autopsy later revealed that the actual cause of death had been an infection on the back of her leg that had gone septic.

Her funeral was the first I'd ever been to.  And it was awkward and wretched, even as funerals go.  I spent a lot of time gathering photos of her for a display at the service, and I took on the role of stronghold for my family.  I was determined to get everyone through this, I was going to be strong.  I chose not to see her body, because I didn't want to remember her that way.  But there's still a piece of me that thinks maybe she didn't really die, maybe she's out there somewhere and it was all a big mistake...  A pastor from my grandparent's church got up and rambled a bunch of crap about Jesus and blah blah blah and talked like he knew her.  If I had been in a functional mindset I would have stood up and yelled at him.  The lady who sang the music messed the songs up so bad, which was kind of a nice distraction actually.  The line of people offering their condolences went on for months, and though people wanted to show their support, all I wanted to do was disappear.

That was the end of Mindy's journey.  And the beginning of mine.

I was determined not to become depressed.  I was strong, I was in control of my life and depression just wasn't going to work for me.  I fought it with all I had.  I didn't need to see a therapist, I refused to be put on anti depressants.  But depression still won.  I spent months in a fog.  I started a new job, took on a full class load at school, and remembered none of it no matter how hard I tried.  I gained fifty pounds.  I started having panic attacks.  It wasn't until one day when your dad was kissing my forehead and I literally couldn't feel it that I realized how disconnected I had become and that things had to change.

Few people know how important your Opa was to me in that time.  I spent most of my days at work emailing him, and he listened.  For months, I don't think either of us got much work done.  He didn't try to fix me, he held the space for me to be as messed up as I could possibly be without feeling sorry for me, and he helped keep me on track and figure out what I was going to do to be better.  The funny thing is, before all of this happened, we didn't really get along well.  Or at all.  It was a blessing I never could have anticipated, and I will be eternally thankful for every email he answered and every word of wisdom he gave me in my darkest time.

It wasn't long before your dad and I decided to move back home to Colorado.  I came home and found yoga as a way to help manage the panic attacks that were still plaguing me even after the depression subsided.  Yoga came to me at the absolute best time, and my practice has saved me.  Without this experience, I don't know that I would have found my way to that foundation that I hold so dear now.

As my life has unfolded since Mindy's death, I have had more dreams about her, always sitting on my bed, just like in the dream I had before she died.  The most vivid ones came before each of you were born.  The last one I had was when I found out about you, Willow.  Mindy didn't talk, she just hugged me, and I haven't seen her since.

As you both grow to become independent little people, I have an honest fear that your teenage years may prove to be like hers.  I know I will have to be incredibly conscious of that, especially to make sure I don't project that on to either of you.  I am reminded of how much her story has shaped even how I parent.  Though you never met her, she is still so much a part of your lives.

In the last year I have really come to terms with the final thing that has been holding me back from feeling free of the sadness of this story.  At first I thought the ultimate goal was to forgive my sister for everything.  But once I did that, I realized I was holding onto a tremendous amount of guilt - maybe I could have done something different to save her, to change how things happened.  I could have tried harder, I could have connected more.... and while it was easier for me to forgive Mindy for everything, it took me a long time to forgive myself.  But I did.  And doing that has been my strongest moment in this journey.


Love,
Mom

The most important tattoo I'll ever have

My lovely girls -

Today I got a tattoo.  This was the twenty first time I've been tattooed, so it's really nothing new.  Twenty one times I've sat down and decided that something in my life was profound enough, memorable enough to want to permanently commemorate on my body to look back on.  My tattoos are not just a collection of art.  They are all a part of the path that has lead me to be who I am now.

Guin, after you were born I started getting big tattoos.  I knew, deep down, that a lot of the reason I wanted big ones was to distract from the stretched belly that I was left with after my pregnancy with you.  My belly had always been flat, toned, smooth, pretty.  As much as I wanted you, as much as I loved every moment of being pregnant, I was not prepared for the forever changes in my body.  Soon after I realized that the stretch marks and extra skin would not be leaving me, I got a tattoo of a pregnant woman, a goddess, mother Earth - the epitome of beauty in my mind.  That full, peaceful body of a woman creating her greatest works.

Willow, when I was pregnant with you my body changed even sooner.  You grew even bigger inside than your sister did.  I gained the same amount of weight, and gained an equal amount of additional stretch marks.  Again, every moment of my pregnancy was brilliant, I LOVED being pregnant with you, witnessing your coming into being.  And my body, like my life, was changed forever.

Now here I am, three years post partum and thirteen tattoos later.  And I've come to realize that the body I have now is the body I will have for the rest of my time.  To be honest, I have said to myself and other people that having babies destroyed my body.  I have cried about how my belly, once so flat and supple, now exists in all of its wrinkled, saggy glory.

I have been working for the past five years to accept the changes in my body, and I am finally realizing that all of the things in nature that I find most beautiful - the interesting curves and folds in the ground, the knots in the winding trees, the clouds as they stretch across the sky.... these are all so blatantly displayed across my body in the place where you both grew.  And I am realizing that the most significant change in my life left the most important marks on my body.  The marks that up until recently have been the hardest to accept.

No tattoo artist could create a mark so significant.  No imagery, not even the tattoos of your tiny little footprints that I have on my shoulders could represent the work we did together in those nine months. You both left such visible marks on my body.  Such beautiful, creative, dramatic marks, that they are a constant reminder of what an incredible creation you have turned my life into.  I have had to work to learn to love my body again.  And yet again my little ones, you have taught me lessons that I could have never learned on my own.

So today, I mark tattoo #21.  There will be more.  But none of them will ever be as important as the marks you've left on my belly, the place you once called home.  Or the marks you have left on my heart.  The place you will always call home.

Love,
Mom

P.S.  This documentary had a huge impact on me and the way that I'm transforming my view of my body.  I hope someday if you get to be mamas that you can find your way here on your path too.

http://youtu.be/kfOBGQpG9fA

Purple Dress

Guin,

You are in such a girly-girl phase right now.  It's such a joy to see you look at yourself in the mirror and smile -you know you are beautiful, and I hope you always do.  Early last November, we were strolling through Target and all of the season's holiday dresses were displayed front and center.  Anything frilly and girly is right up your alley, so I wasn't surprised when you spotted the iridescent purple formal dress.  It stood out from all of the other bland dresses, kind of like you do.  It was $30, and we didn't have the money for it that day.  

So for the next two weeks, you talked about nothing but that purple dress.  You drew pictures of yourself wearing it.  You told me about all of the great adventures you'd have in it.  You showed me how you would twirl and dance.   

So you convinced me.

In an effort to give you a lesson in ownership and responsibility, I told you that if I bought it for you that it would have to be reserved for special occasions, but if you used your own money you could wear it whenever you wanted.  You didn't hesitate - you were going to buy it with your own money.  And you were going to sleep in the thing.

We got to Target, and there was one purple dress left.  It was exactly your size.  We went to the fitting room to try it on, and your face lit up the world when you looked in the mirror.  You did the twirl test - it was perfect.

It's now been almost three months since you bought your dress, and just like I expected, you have worn it everywhere.  You love the attention you get, people always telling you how beautiful you are.  When people ask you if you have a special occasion, you smile and say "no", and the people around you take a moment to remember that formal iridescent purple dresses don't need special occasions.  Every day is a special occasion when you are five.  

 

And while I hoped to teach you a lesson with your purple dress, yet again you are teaching me in unexpected ways.  So much of me wants to get a pretty formal dress of my own.  Yes, I've had them before, for prom and weddings... but never one just because I thought it was pretty.  And even if I did, I wouldn't have the confidence to wear it just because.  I'd be too afraid of what other people would think or say... and I look at you so happily eating your snacks and painting and exploring the playground in your formal purple dress, and I ask myself why in the world not?  What is stopping me from having the confidence, for just one day, to put on a dress that makes me feel beautiful, and wearing it just because I feel like it?  What stops everyone when they become adults from being so vibrantly happy and care free? 

So now, my little teacher, I am on a mission.  I'm going to find myself the perfect, vibrant dress.  Probably red, to echo what some other amazing women have done with the same idea.  But when I find it, I'm going to need you to hold my hand, and remind me that I am strong enough, brave enough, and free enough to wear it out.  You are wiser than you know, and I hope this is a confidence that you always keep.

Love,

Mom