It's time to meet Dylan

This is Dylan.  She's calm and content, full of gummy and delightful squeals; my heart living outside my body. 

And this is her Dad, he's mine too.

For months now, I've been trying to find the right words but I didn't feel like my thoughts were gathered enough, polished enough, or exact enough.  So I didn't write.  I wanted to preserve these feelings and stages but always waited for more time, more words, more clarity.  And so here we are, nearly 1/2 a year later, and I still haven't written a single thing about something I feel so keenly and so fully. 

I probably would have waited forever but just this week, it hit me: this is my new normal and I'm waiting for something that isn't going to come. I'm wasting time, and time is something I now choose to share.

Gone are the days where I spent hours mulling over a single word or phrase, or slowly cooked an elaborate meal, or slogged through a book I didn't particularly care for just to avoid leaving it unfinished, or spent 10 days ripping out stitches on a project because I was annoyed that it wasn't *just right*, or spent 45mins on my morning hygiene routine (wtf was I doing with my life?), etc., etc., etc.  And it would be understandable if I said I no longer have time - that certainly what it feels like most days.  But what I realized this week is that I still have all the same time I did before.  And while it would be a taxing effort in it's own way, I could probably even muster the same mental clarity I had pre-baby.  But now I opt to spend everything differently and the result is less time and focus on me and my interests.  And that isn't going to change in the foreseeable future...by my choice.

Everyday for the last 5 months, I have chosen Dylan.  I give her my body because she used to be a part of it, and now this bright new world is strange and overwhelming, but so much nicer when you don't have to go through it feeling alone.  I give her my attention because it helps her grow, and learn, and makes her happy.  I give her my effort and intention because of all the things I apply myself towards in the course of my life, I want her to have my very best.  And I give her my sleep because day after day in the wee hours, she needs me.  

And I want to remember all these things in the small moments that they occur.  They're so precious yet so ordinary, repetitive, and fleeting that when I give them to her I'm also surrendering my own time and memory.  It's such a blur of love, sleepiness, tiny struggles, and rapid change; it's impossible to remember all (or even most?) of it.  And that simply won't do.  Six months, a year, or 20 years from now - I want to remember more than my second priority mind can spontaneously recall from this love-drenched time.  So this blog is going to become a place for me to share, but also just to remember. 

And it's going to get a whole lot messier. 

Not sorry, not even a little bit.

Late to 2019

First: Happy 2019!

Second: I've been here EIGHT MONTHS!??? 

Steve and I used to play a game where I could accurately guess the time (within a few minutes) at pretty much any moment of the day. From the moment I woke up to the moment I slept, I always knew the time. It was a fun trick I learned in childhood, but perhaps also an indication of how measured and meticulous my days have always been. 

Upon arriving in the UAE eight months ago, I simply turned off my internal stopwatch. Convenience aside, I wanted to know what it feels like to not to track every waking moment in the back of my brain. I assume it's a pretty normal (and only a tiny bit crazy) habit but I've been really trying to pare down on all the unnecessary brain buzzing in order to 1) focus on what's important, and 2) calm the F down. But that's the funny thing about ingrained habits - even when you want to it's hard to stop. I had to constantly remind myself to just enjoy the moments as they came without trying to count them, at whatever the hell time they occurred. And the result?

In short, it's different kind of life. One where I feel less controlled (in a good way), my brain is a little more free, my sleep is much more sound (sometimes I counted in my sleep), I never had any idea what time it is, and I'm late for way more things...like brunches, birthdays, and this post. 

But enough about my super weird habits that sound a hundred times worse when I put them in a blog post, it's time for New Years-ish things!

Let's take stock of the proclamations I made when I wrote this post at the beginning of 2018: 

1. Steven and I start living under the same roof again,    DONE!
2. I embrace all the things that scare me about starting something new,    I wouldn't say I've fully embraced all of it yet, but I'm pushing forward and starting something new in 2019. 
3. I read all the books I'm longing for,    I think my appetite for books will always exceed my ability to consume them, but I love that about reading. Last fall, I finally pushed through a mental roadblock and can finally read 'fun stuff' for hours at a time again. 
4. I balance all my cooking inspirations with not having 10,000 random ingredients on hand all the time, and    Ehhhh...I'd say 1/2 DONE (I have like 2 dozen items in my pantry right now where I'm like whyyyy?)
5. Phoebe makes peace with the all the squirrels (highly unlikely)    THIS IS THE SURPRISE WIN. Squirrels are not native to the UAE so we don't have any in our neighborhood. It's amaaaaaazing.

Dang, now I feel so accomplished, even if a tiny bit trivial.

Today, standing on the other side of 2018, the year feels bigger than I could have known going in.  Mostly, it was grounded in love - for better and for worse - in all it's humbling and terrible beauty. It's the year I put our marriage before my career and moved back to the UAE to mend our weary, long distance hearts. The year I finally practiced some long overdue self care, and in doing so realized I trusted Sven more than I ever thought possible. In many ways, it's another year where I learn how much lighter and brighter the road can be when it's shared. Yet also, forever the year our hearts broke in different, individual ways with Shawn's passing and then expanded and fractured in everything that came afterwards with and for Katie. 

In looking at the year ahead, I'm filled with so much excitement, and hope, and joy for things to still to come. For the first time since graduating college 10+ years ago, my year isn't scripted and I don't have an office with my name burned into it. It's thrilling and and a wee bit scary, but I'm so very full of optimism knowing that 2019 will be whatever Sven and I choose to make of it. 

Happy 2019 my loves.

*H

We can be Both

The house is quiet today but my mind and heart are so full of so many things. I don't have the right words yet but I want to document this while the feelings are still fresh. Similar to the way I felt after our France trip last year, I want to remember this swirl of heart stirs and thoughts before the pace of daily life has a chance to dull them/me.

Last week, we flew to the states to say goodbye to a very dear friend who departed too soon. His passing was very sudden, disorienting, and heartbreaking. But this isn't a post about our loss or grief - we're going to navigate those murky waters in private. Suffice it to say that Steven will have a Shawn-shaped hole in his heart forever. And I mourn that hole in my lover's heart, along with all the times I squandered the opportunity to know and love Shawn as well as I could have.

Someone once told me there are only a handful of major life events that merit a big show of love: a wedding, a birth, a life saved, and a life lost. And last week held true to that statement - somehow amidst the tears and sadness there was also a quiet and large demonstration of love. Love from everyone who dropped their busy lives to bid their old friend farewell. Love for Katie, who now outlives him, as friends and family supported her grief (or tried to in our awkward and inexperienced ways) and reassured her that Shawn made a difference in our lives and would never be forgotten. And the big, big love that radiated from Katie for her departed, with nowhere to go other than poured into the people and pursuits he loved. The beauty and sadness of this duality made my heart fracture and swell at the same time, and I felt like I understood something deep and inherent about our nature as human beings.

This ability to be both (or three, or four, or all things) helped me see the complexity, and hope, and capacity for more within us. Our hearts and lives are not bounded; they can grow and expand and do somersaults, if we let them. To be utterly heartbroken yet still able to smile, to be angry at the circumstances but tender with those around us, and to mourn the loss of one while also preparing to welcome another - those are good things worth keeping. And while I know these slices exist in every corner of every day - I haven't noticed or felt them as keenly as I do right now. Just thinking about it now makes me very achey in the chest but grateful everywhere else.

This life is precious because of the love we have for others and our vast ability to act on it.