Admission

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my admission to an inpatient facility. Admission is a great word for what happened to me one year ago because I was not only technically registered into a behavioral health facility, but I was admitting that my mental health was at a point that I no longer knew how to deal with it.

Notice that I did not say that I couldn’t deal with it. Though I would have used that word one year ago, I know better now. I know that we are capable of handling everything in our lives, good and bad. I know that contrast (bad things) exist to teach us about what we desire and who we are, and to remind us to savor the good because no experience, either good or bad, is permanent. I walked into that facility thinking that I needed help because I “couldn’t” deal with my OCD, but a weekend in the hospital taught me that I could at least cope. Then, roughly eight weeks later when I graduated from the partial hospitalization program, I understood that I was not only capable of coping, but I was capable of dealing with OCD, I just needed the right tools. When I discharged from the program, I had those tools, but I was still very unpracticed at using them. One year later, I am hardly an expert, but I can tell you with certainty that my skills with my toolset are drastically improved. My mental health is a pendulum, I have good days and bad days. However, when the days are bad I no longer feel like OCD is a steamroller, slowly flattening my life. Instead, OCD is an unruly child, which requires some attention (“what is it that you need? why are you acting out?”) and occasionally, a good old fashioned time out.

There’s so much I want to relate to you guys about what I am learning, and I’m sorry that I haven’t been the best steward of this blog. The truth is that my life has been really busy, in mostly positive ways, and I’m still trying to fit writing back into my life. But I wanted to acknowledge the anniversary of my admission and share a little bit with you about what has made a difference in this past year.

You already know my love affair with value-driven behavior, and I can’t stress enough the impact that devoting myself to my values has had on my life in the last year. Mental illness creates footholds in your mind if you allow it to, and those footholds make it easier and easier for it to work its way into your life and climb to the highest peaks of you, to the parts that matter most. Value-driven behavior helped me to smash the footholds that my OCD was trying to create. Focusing on my values and behaving the way I would without OCD meant that OCD couldn’t find the footholds it needed. It isn’t easy at first. It requires constant vigilance and pushing through difficult emotions to stay focused on values while mental illness desperately tries to distract you and gain footing. But the more you practice it, the easier it gets. I promise you that. If you haven’t already, head over to my post on Value-Driven Behavior and spend some time with the worksheets there. If you get stuck, or if you just want to chat about this concept, feel free to drop me a line! I’d love to hear what your values are and the kinds of behaviors you’re choosing in order to live into them!

The second concept that I want to share with you is that emotions are just data. Our brains are continually funneling data our way. As you go about your day, your brain is processing everything that you come into contact with, and many of those things will elicit an emotion. If you wake up and the sun is shining, you might smile and feel hopeful about the day to come. If someone gives you a dirty look on the street, you might feel defensive or vulnerable. We don’t have much control over these types of involuntary emotions, but what we do have control over is how we react to them. For example, let’s say you woke up and it was rainy and gloomy outside, you might feel down or disappointed. You might not feel so excited about the day to come. As a result, you’d trudge through your day and you’d probably get the crummy, dismal day you were expecting. You’d be responding to your emotions as though they were directions that you had to follow, and that’s what a lot of us do. BUT, if you’ve practiced treating your emotions like data instead of directions, your process might look something like this: “Hm, the weather is gloomy today, and I’m feeling disappointed about that. But that’s okay. I know that I don’t need the sun to be out to have a great day.” You could choose instead to be grateful for what rainy days bring (a couple of days of not having to water my vegetable garden, if you’re me!), or if gratitude is too hard (because if you’re way low down, gratitude is just too far a reach sometimes, I get that), you can at least choose to recognize your bummed emotion as a gut check reaction to the weather, and not a firmly paved path that you must follow. I’ll expand more on this concept, as I did with Value-Driven Behavior, in a future post, but I wanted to introduce it to you now because I have found it to be helpful in the last year.

In therapy last week, I hit on something which I think sums up very well the way that my mindset has changed over the past year. Lots of things are still happening in my life which are difficult or would typically be very triggering for OCD. At the end of 2017, we discovered that my oldest son had a rare, aggressive cyst in his jaw which required two surgeries to remove (he is now recovered, and there is only a 5% chance the cyst will return). We started 2018 with my youngest son having a bout of the stomach virus so bad that we ended up in the hospital for fluids, then that same child broke two bones in his right arm just a week later. I have had some chest pain and breathing trouble that has resulted in the discovery of nodules in my lungs (so far they aren’t worried about them though), a lesion on my spleen which is still unexplained, and a Holter monitor which revealed that my heart throws two different kinds of extra beats (I am having a stress test and an echo-cardiogram next week). I have been in near constant pain from this mystery auto-immune illness (I am due for another round of blood work in April which will hopefully bring some answers). We are renovating our house, which has been exciting but stressful.

It’s a lot, right?

A year ago, I would have been drowning. I would have been dreading the next thing. I would have been saying things like “Why does stuff like this always happen to me?” I would have been living under the weight of the “Other Shoe” sensation, believing that my life is a series of stressful, negative events. And since that’s what I would be believing, that’s exactly what I would get. Or at least, that’s what I would see.

Instead, my life is still a never boring series of adventure and experiences. Some of those experiences are good, and some of them are bad, but I see the negative stuff as contrast. I don’t enjoy it, but I know that contrast experiences are necessary to our lives. You can’t avoid the bad stuff, but you can avoid letting it control you. Contrast teaches me about who I am and what I want. My experiences with my health troubles have taught me that I want to feel vital again, and they’ve taught me that I haven’t been the best steward of my body. My experiences with my health have led me back to fitness, and in the last few months, I have made changes to my diet which have already shown positive results (my cholesterol is almost back in the normal range!). My experiences with my children lately have taught me that my instincts as a mother are pretty damn good. OCD tried to convince me that I couldn’t be trusted to react correctly in the face of health issues, but that’s not true. I’m in tune with my children, and I’m good at knowing how to care for them. My experience with my son breaking his arm showed me, yet again, that my husband is an amazingly empathetic and emotionally courageous person. We handled a situation, which was exceedingly hard and traumatic for our son, like a well-oiled machine. Our teamwork made the experience as easy as it could have been.

Do you see what I am doing? I am not saying the bad stuff was “good.” But I know that the bad stuff was just stuff, and I get to choose what I get out of it. When you start to practice seeing contrast (bad stuff) this way, you inadvertently train your brain to stop expecting bad stuff. I am dealing with things better because I don’t believe that “this sort of stuff always happens to me.” I am dealing with everything life throws at me because I am not waiting for the other shoe to drop. That would require me to live in dread of the future, and I’d much rather live in the joy of the present.

So, one year ago today, I was miserable in an inpatient ward. I was at one of the lowest points of my life. I was deep in the contrast. And yet, without that admission, I wouldn’t be where I am at today. So, I choose to be grateful for that low point. I am so grateful for that past version of me. Admission required bravery. Admission required vulnerability. Admission required me to own that what I was doing wasn’t working, so I needed someone to teach me something new. I hold that moment of contrast in high regard.

The band Birdtalker has a song about depression called Blue Healer which I love, and I want to leave you with some of the lyrics that I think sum up so perfectly everything I have learned in the last year:

And now I stand tall
Used to think my sorrow was a brick wall
Made me want to curl up in a tight ball
Self-pity dealer
But there’s a gate here
You can only find it if you wait here
Now I’m walkin’ through it with my gaze clear
Me and the Blue Healer

 

Sending love,

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Highest Potential

Hi. I want to talk about bodies. Wait. That probably doesn’t sound so good…

Let me try again.

I want to talk about my body.

I am a former distance runner who ran 35 miles a week when I got pregnant with my first baby. I even ran a half marathon during that pregnancy. I was a beast. I was strong. I felt awesome.

Unfortunately, as a result of pregnancy and delivery, I had symphysis pubic dysfunction, diastasis recti, as well as pretty extensive damage to my pelvic floor after my son was born. It wasn’t until Silas was almost two years old that I finally received a diagnosis for my pelvic floor problems. By then the dysfunction was so bad that I could not fully empty my bladder and was constantly carrying around about 100cc of urine (They can measure that. Weird right?)

When I got pregnant again, everything got worse.

Two rounds and three years of pelvic physical therapy later and I am doing a lot better, though I may never be “normal” again.

Cut to about a month ago, I’ve been hinting at some physical problems, but haven’t yet wanted to discuss things until I had a diagnosis and could better wrap my head around things. Thankfully, it isn’t anything serious, but it is chronic. About a month ago I was diagnosed with Palindromic Rheumatism after months of fatigue, joint pain and a million doc visits (which are incredibly hard for me thanks to Health OCD). The pain is part of what sent me into an episode. It’s part of why I got so bad that I ended up in a Behavioral Health hospital. Not because I experienced the pain and symptoms, but because I was not equipped to manage my mental health alongside them. Things are different now. Part of what I learned in the partial hospitalization program that I attended is how to understand the way my brain deals with health issues, and how to normalize the anxiety that often accompanies health concerns. I’m going to be talking a lot more about this in the coming weeks, as I’m excited and inspired by the way my brain is habituating to some of the positive mental health practices that I have learned.

So, the last month has been a bit of a relief, because walking around with all these symptoms and not knowing the why was more than a little unnerving. I started a nerve blocking medication which has helped tremendously in managing the pain and also the fatigue because I am finally getting restful sleep again! I’m learning about Palindromic Rheumatism, but only from my doctor because I’m still not allowed to Google health stuff and probably never will again, which is fine by me. I’ve learned (again) how important restorative sleep is to my mental well-being and have enjoyed thoroughly the radiant feeling that returns when my body is getting the rest that it needs. I’ve learned that if I over-indulge, I will not only have a wicked, I’m-not-in-my-twenties-anymore hangover, but I will also probably have a rheumatic flare! Even more reason to enjoy my craft beer in moderation. 🙂

Yesterday, I pulled some Affirmators and Soul’s Journey cards to serve as prompts for journaling and had an enormous ah-ha moment.

I have a shit relationship with my body.

I have resented it. I have told my husband that it is “broken.” My language around my body and its functioning is always negative. As a result, I FEEL bad about my body. I feel afraid about my health. I am riding around in this thing all day, scared of every twinge and twitch.

What would happen if I began to treat my body with the love, gratitude, and compassion that it deserves? What if I stopped being disappointed that it isn’t the way it used to be and instead helped it discover its NEW potential?

Today, I start working with a personal trainer. We will be doing mostly strength training with an additional two days of cardio per week. She knows about all my physical “nuances”, and she is undaunted. She is excited to help me find my new strong. She believes in this Me, not the distance runner version.

I may never be a distance runner again. That doesn’t mean that I peaked and now it’s downhill from here. It means that my highest potential has shifted to somewhere else, to some other point on the map. It’s about recognizing that my highest potential is just as fluid as my capabilities and strengths and as such, I am always equipped to find and meet it.

I don’t care about being skinny. This new endeavor isn’t about looks. It is about changing the relationship I have with my body (starting with the way I think and talk about it). It is about feeling strong and vital again. Most of all, this is about showing my body that I believe in it. It’s about reverence for what we have been through together, this beautiful body and I.

It’s about saying thank you.

It’s about self-love.

 

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What We Keep In The Corners

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Tonight my oldest son and my husband went to the Bull’s game, so I did what any person with an ill-formed sense of judgment would do, and took my four-year-old to Chuck E Cheese’s.

In all seriousness, we had a lovely time. I watched Silas kick a much older child’s ass at a snowmobile racing game. The older boy spent the first half of the race taunting my sweet-hearted 4-year-old… and the second half of the game chewing through his bottom lip as my angel formed the older child’s taunts into a laser beam of drive and ambition with which he would calmly destroy all that the older child had ever held dear.

When he emerged, victorious, he simply looked at his nemesis the older child, pure innocence beaming from his little aura, and said “Fanks! That was fun!

Oh yes, he is my child. *evil grin*

ANYWAYS. Before we went to Chuck E Cheese, I took my little date out for dinner to Noodles and Company (his fave). Over pasta, we discussed the various ways that apples can be sliced and the way we like them best (thin slices, but not too thin). We discussed the many merits of Chapstick. We talked about Super Why and Eye of the Tiger. It was during a short discourse on Survivor that he, rather loudly and distinctly, interrupted me by saying, “Mom, it’s sad that my baby sister died.”

You could have heard a noodle drop.

I recovered myself from the land of montage music and replied that yes, it was sad and that it’s okay to feel sad about it. I wasn’t sure what else to say. It isn’t the first time that he has randomly brought up Clara, and it’s evident to me that he’s still working it all out. What struck me, though, was his okayness with the topic. Of course, he is simply too young to know that it is taboo. Too young to consider that talking about it might upset me, but I don’t see this as problematic. Instead, I am in awe of the way he lives his life completely out in the open. There are no dark corners where he hides things deemed too painful to discuss.

I love this about him. I am certainly not known for my lack of candor, but even I have a tendency to hold things close when I think they’re too messy for the world to see. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with this and people should never disclose more than makes them comfortable, but I’ve always found comfort in communicating pretty much all. Once you learn to live with the vulnerability which is inevitable with this way of being, it’s pretty damn freeing.

What’s more, I’m proud AF of the fact that we have handled Clara’s loss in a way that Silas feels comfortable bringing it up over buttered noodles in a very public forum. That tells me that despite our unimaginable grief, we have kept our experience with losing Clara from being pushed into the corners. It is not a taboo subject in our home. This not only feels like the healthiest way to handle it with our children, but it feels like the best way to honor her.

We will talk about her. She is part of our family. And, just like I told Silas tonight, it’s totally normal to feel sad about her not being here.

I feel sad about it every day.

But, I also feel happy every single day about having him, and Daddy, and Caiden in my life.

Life is dark and light. It is gains and losses, gratitude and regret.

And while tact and timing are social lessons that he will need to learn, I hope that he can continue to live a life with no dark and dusty corners.

…I also hope he continues to sweetly destroy anyone who tries to knock him down.

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December Reflections Day 17 – Five Years Ago

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Silas,

Five years ago you were just where you are this morning, albeit a good deal smaller, and on the inside of me, instead of the outside.
As we approach your 5th birthday, only 4 months away, with your first year of school following quickly behind, I have been doing a lot of reflecting lately on just how much you’ve grown. I am proud of you every day. Proud of your inquisitive spirit and your kind and thoughtful heart. Proud of your impeccable sense of humor and your willingness to learn when you make a mistake.

I know that you won’t always want to snuggle in my lap, occupying that same space, relative to my body, that I will always identify as belonging to you. So, I do my best to soak in these moments, and mark them on my heart. I love you, my precious boy. ❤
Love,
Mommy

A Brief Update, Bloom Beautifully, and a discount code FOR YOU!

HELLO my sweet friends! Apologies for the prolonged absence from this space. Hopefully you are following me on Facebook and Twitter, where I have not been absent.

*evil grin*

If not, join the fun!

I’ve been movin’ and shakin’ since returning from the Warrior Mom Conference, and I am SO FREAKING EXCITED about some of the things I have planned for you. I’ve got posts queued up (ones that will get you all in your feels and some that will get you all in your giggles). I’ve got some new series’ that are going to start soon (monthly or bi-monthly posts on the same topic/idea). AND, I’ve got some in-person stuff in the pipeline for you locals who want to come hang out with me in real life! 2017 is shaping up to be a big year here at Motherhood Misfit, and I’m so glad you’re along for the ride!

Now, the elephant in the room – The Election. Let’s just get this out of the way so that we can move on. Those of you who follow me on Facebook and Twitter already know this, but I want to set some expectations for those of you who follow me only here.

I am an unapologetic liberal. I am an unapologetic fighter for justice, equality, and safety for marginalized groups of people. I am a middle-class white woman who recognizes her privilege and platform and will use both vehemently to amplify the voices of people of color and to attempt to right the many, many things currently wrong with this world. I will not shy from my beliefs because they make you uncomfortable. I will not keep my political opinions out of my blog. My space – my voice – my responsibility.

We cool? Good.

I have been HARD at work since November 9th, doing my part to effect change, both socially and within the inter-workings of my party, which failed so hard to inspire and represent the very people they claim as a voter base.

If you are interested in finding ways to get involved or learn more about my opinions, please use the links previously posted to find me on Facebook where I am frequently posting opportunities and am more than happy to chat about the work we have to do.

NOW, on to the fun stuff!

I had the opportunity, after Warrior Mom Con, to try out Bloom Beautifully, a monthly subscription box dedicated entirely to Self Care.

I know. So awesome.

Bloom Beautifully is run by Tara Pringle Jefferson, who is not only a woman entrepreneur herself, but sources many of the products in her boxes from fellow female-owned small businesses. How cool is that?

I tried out the November box and am excited to share with you what was inside! Even better, Tara has very kindly provided a discount code JUST for Motherhood Misfit readers! Keep reading to get the skinny on my November box, and to receive your special discount code.

INSIDE THE NOVEMBER BOX

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Lavender Chai Soap Bar by Zandra Beauty 
Y’all, this soap is gorgeous. Handcrafted by owner, 16-year-old Zandra, this soap is plant-based, cruelty-free, paraben free, all-natural and free of icky ingredients. As if it wasn’t cool enough that Zandra Beauty is owned and operated by a 16-year-old girl, 10% of its profits support girls’ education. Basically, throw all your credit cards at her because she is doing some amazing stuff.

Beautiful & Brave Coffee Mug by Rachel Allene Lettering 
True- I have only owned this mug for about seven days.
Also True- I have used this mug for seven days.
So basically, I’m in love.

Cafe Latte Coffee Candy by Fusion Gourmet
These are dangerous and would make a fantastic stocking stuffer for you to give yourself because you’re not going to want to share them.

Cocoa Butter Massage Bar by The Good Stuff Naturals
You GUYS. This bar smells like heaven. Cedar and Saffron?! It’s like Tara knew me already. I like anything that smells like a tree. No sarcasm. If anyone knows how to make perfume out of tree bark, hit me up. That said, when I saw that this soap had Cedar in its scent profile, I shed a single tear, turned, and went immediately to turn on my shower.

Peppermint Mocha Hand Cream by Strange Charm Design
This smells exactly like a Peppermint Mocha from Starbucks, which happens to be my second holiday drink of choice. My first choice is a Brandy Alexander, but for some reason, it is frowned upon to drink those during the daytime. So, Starbucks it is. YOU GUYS, I just realized that I could put this hand cream on and then drink a Brandy Alexander and it will kind of be like having BOTH of my favorite holiday drinks at the same time. *runs off to find martini shaker*

Mini Bonus: Inspirational Art Print by Bloom Beautifully 
“I am leaving every day to allow the space between where I am and where I want to be to inspire me and not terrify me.” – Tracee Ellis Ross
This little art card was so perfect for where I am right now. I have been swimming in plans and ideas since October and was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed with all the work to be done. Then the election happened. Having this little card on my altar (YES, I’m going to post about it) has been a wonderful way to remind me to get excited about the road ahead, instead of scared of it.

SO, there you have it! I’m obsessed with my Bloom Beautifully box. It would make a wonderful holiday gift (full disclosure: I am REALLY hoping that someone *ahem Hubby/Mom* will sign me up for a subscription this Christmas!) Even better; Tara has very graciously offered readers of Motherhood Misfit a special discount code to receive $5 off your first box. Just use the code MISFIT at checkout!

With that, I am off to begin the marathon cooking for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Sending you all love, gratitude, and peace as we roll into the holiday season.

See you back here soon!

 

 

 

The New Family – When Your Mom Comes Out

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I had the GREAT pleasure to spend some time chatting with Brandie Weikle over at The New Family, and my episode went live today! Have a listen on your commute home tonight and remember

YOU ARE ENOUGH.

Listen to the podcast directly on the site, or find them on iTunes, SoundCloud, Stitcher, and various other platforms!

The Anniversary, An Unexpected Adventure

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Dear Clara,

One year ago today, you were taken from my body.

One year ago today, I said the first of many goodbyes to you. I just can’t seem to stop saying goodbye to you, so often are you on my mind.

The last two weeks have been really hard. Like, trudging through quicksand, next level hard. And it’s no wonder. After all, last Labor Day weekend, we found out that you were a girl. Our first daughter, our sweet Clara. Three days later, we got the call that something appeared to be amiss. One week after that, we found ourselves in the office of a specialist, listening to a diagnosis that felt like it must surely be meant for someone else.

Five days later, you were gone.

It all happened so fast.

A fellow Warrior Mom has been reading a book called The Body Keeps the Score, by Dr.Bessel van der Kolk, which discusses the way that traumatic experiences literally reshape our brain, creating a physical record and replay function of the trauma, over which we have little control. It’s a book I intend to read very soon, but even without having read it, I am able to see just why the last couple of weeks have been so hard.

My body remembers.

My body remembers so well, that I spent the last two weeks fretting myself right into a case of bronchitis which landed me in the ER receiving a breathing treatment and a bag of fluids.

I made it to this day, though, and out of respect for the pain and my own grieving process, I decided to take today off of work. I’d be alone, well except for Milo Dog, and would be able to feel my feelings and let my heart guide me towards what activities would serve me best. Perhaps I would knit and send up a heartbeat for you with every turn of the needles. Perhaps I would take a walk in the woods and listen for you in the leaves, rustling crisply as they give over their supple green to the slowly encroaching Autumn hues and textures. Perhaps I would work on clearing the garden for Fall, pushing my hands into the earth and reminding myself of the oneness of it all, you included.

Parenthood had other ideas.

Silas was up half the night complaining of an earache and a headache. Milo needed to have a behavioral evaluation at a local boarder, so that we can board him for a wedding this weekend, and so my “Self-care Day” slowly turned into something else entirely.

First, I took Silas to the doctor this morning. Thankfully the ear ache is not an infection. Just fluid, likely caused by allergies. So we’re going to stick to the Children’s Claritin and try to make it through the rest of ragweed season without anything turning infected.

Milo’s behavioral visit was fine. We’re going to set him up to spend a full day there sometime this week, just so he can really get acquainted with the place before we leave him for an overnight.

By the time Silas and I left the dog boarder, it was lunch time. Since we had Milo with us, I decided to drive over to St. Charles (a little town on the Fox River that Daddy and I both love) and grab some lunch on a dog-friendly patio.

I ordered a beer. +5 self care points?

While we were waiting for our food, Silas informed me that he needed to pee. Just to recap, Silas is 4, cannot take himself to the bathroom, and we were on a patio with a 70lb velcro dog who does not enjoy being left alone.

I told Silas he needed to hold it. He said he could not.

I texted Daddy to see if he had any ideas. He did not.

Then Silas asked me, in the sweetest voice possible, if he could just pee in his pants.

I picked my heart back up off the pavement, slammed it back into my chest and mustered up the courage to ask our waitress if she would mind sitting with our dog for a few minutes while I took Silas to the bathroom. She very sweetly agreed, so I gave her a handful of treats for him and raced off to the bathroom, grateful for her kindness.

We returned to the table and as we waited for our order, I reflected on the way my day was turning out. Not bad, of course. It hasn’t been a bad day by any means. It’s just been so opposite the somber, introspective, grief stricken day that I had imagined it would be. By contrast, it’s been a day filled with so much life. From lingering bronchitis, to thankfully uneventful pediatrician visits, to dog boarders.  From inconvenient potty requests, to kind strangers, to a craft beer enjoyed under the shade of a towering oak tree, a dog snoozing at my feet and Silas zooming cars around the table top. It has been a wonderful, lively day.

There is, of course, a part of me who hurts immeasurably because you aren’t here to enjoy these days. However, as I sat on that patio, watching the dappled sunlight dance through the oak tree and smelling the first hint of dried leaves on the breeze, it felt as though you were telling me something about what today was really for.

Today wasn’t a day for grief. Today was a day for life. Crazy, messy, silly, happy, LIFE.

I left the waitress a hefty tip, along with a note, explaining how her small kindness had meant the world to a random Mom on a sad day. I then threw nap time windows to the wind, and we decided to visit Daddy at work, since it was just down the street. Why the heck not. Silas is napping now (late, and probably not for very long), and I’m sitting in the library, the room that was to be yours. Really, it is yours, I think it might always be. I’m overcome with the kind of peace and relaxation that only seems to find me in this room, and I’m finally doing something I had planned to do today. I’m writing. The words are just very different than what I expected them to be.

On a day which I expected to think only of death, you filled my heart and mind with appreciation for life, be it mundane or exemplary, or some spectacular mix of both.

Thank you for still teaching me, my Little Moon. I hope you always will.

We are all thinking of you, today and every day, and Mommy loves you, my darling girl.

I love you so very, very much.

Mommy