milestones

Today would have been my mom's 71st birthday. We reached the six month anniversary of her death over the weekend, as well, so it's quite a charged time, full of grief and remembrance. Our own series of memorial days.



It's hard to believe that it was just one year ago that Michael and I made this video to honor my mom's 70th. I'm so grateful that my dad encouraged me and my sister to do something extra special for our mom's birthday (my sister put together a gorgeous album of our mom's younger years.) We took a brunch cruise around the San Diego harbor to celebrate, and even though Michael got a bit sea sick, I remember it as a festive and delicious day. I'm glad her last birthday was a good one.

I have been meaning to write about our new house, and I will with a later post, but I do want to say that every day I feel sad that she'll never get to see it, and every day I feel grateful for the work we're able to do on the house thanks to her thoughtful foresight.

May this post be a virtual candle to honor her birthday and share some of her light.

Asher, sleeping

Asher recently started flipping over onto his tummy to sleep. I was worried about this at first--I keep hearing that babies should sleep on their backs to reduce the threat of SIDS, plus the second night of tummy-flipping, we were staying in a hotel with a big marshmallow of a foam bed and I was worried his face would get swallowed up--but my sister assured me that once babies start turning over on their own to sleep, they're ready for it.

I love watching Asher sleep (I love watching him awake, too. I just love watching him, in general.) Since he was born, his arm has been a barometer of the depth of his sleep. He will often fall asleep with his arm sticking straight up, perpendicular to the bed, as if he is hailing a cab. As he descends into slumber, the arm lowers to the mattress, sometimes with such incremental, controlled slowness, it looks like he is doing yoga, or maybe even a Noh dance. It is amazing to me that a baby's arm can have such controlled and graceful movement, especially while it's fighting gravity. Sometimes, though, his arm will drop to the bed with a sudden thud, and the thwack of it will wake him back up.

Now that he is sleeping on his tummy more, the arm-as-barometer isn't happening as often. I'm going to miss it when it's no longer part of his sleep repertoire. It's funny how I'm already nostalgic about Asher's babyhood; I was at a store today and sighed when I saw the three month clothes. It all happens so quickly; I can't believe he'll be six months old soon (and he's already wearing 9 month outfits). My sweet slumbering boy.

My two sons

Mother's Day

What a bittersweet Mother's Day this was, so soon after Michael and I both lost our moms. We wanted it to be a meaningful day, so we had our soul sisters Nancy and Jenn and their older daughter Britt, and Michael's sister Mette and her two boys over for breakfast and a tree planting. Michael had dug a 4 1/2 foot hole the day before, and we dropped the placenta from Asher's birth at the bottom (Nancy and Jenn had been storing it in their freezer for us. We originally had it in our own freezer, but Hannah refused to eat anything in the fridge while it was there.) I said a few words about how the placenta had nourished Asher and now it will nourish the pear tree we were about to plant, and thus nourish and mother our new home (and all of us) in the process. Jenn had bought the pear tree for us shortly after Asher was born, and it had been sitting forlornly in a pot in our old front yard for months; it looks much happier now in the soil (which we enriched with the worms and compost from our vermiculture bin.) I hope we'll be able to take good care of it--I haven't had much luck with plants in the past, but this one is very important to me.

Later in the day, Arin came over (so good to be with both my sons--the big one rocking copious facial hair, the little one rocking his first two teeth! My girl was off gallivanting with my sister and her family in Toronto; her flight gets in later tonight--I am excited to see her and learn more about her adventures.) Arin helped me unpack some of my mom's paintings in the basement and we brought the one above up into the living room. My mom had titled it "Death and Transfiguration"; each letter represents a loved one who died (her parents, six of her brothers and one of her sisters, all connected with bloodlines on the canvas, and a young love). I had never noticed before that the letter G, for her mother Gertrude, is covered with gold, metallic paint, while the other letters are all more of a matte mustard color. It felt meaningful to discover this detail on Mother's Day--my mom was very close to her mom and considered her her guardian angel. It makes a lot of sense that she would make her mom's initial shimmer. That glitter takes on extra meaning for me because the book I'm working on about my mom (more in my head at this point than on the page, alas) is tentatively titled Golden--the title has nothing to do with the painting, but now the painting makes it feel even more apt.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you.

RIP Jette

My mother in law Jette passed away tonight, two days after a catastrophic heart attack. I never could have fathomed that Michael and I would lose our mothers within four months of one another. Both of our mothers could be difficult women, but they were our mothers, and they loved us, and we loved them, even in the midst of complicated relationships. When you have a mom, it's as if someone is standing between you and the cliff's edge; being a motherless child, you have a better view of the abyss. I am grateful we are here to shelter one another, to give each other the love and support and nurturing we need to turn away from the cliff, feel the sweet ground beneath our feet holding us up.

I have to admit, it took me a while to warm to Jette. I adore my former mother in law and miss her terribly, and Jette was nothing like Patricia. Jette could be cantankerous and opinionated and intolerant and fearful, and I often had to bite my tongue around her. But my heart started to open to her over time, especially recently. Jette had really turned a corner in the last couple of months, had started to be more positive and active in her life. She began an email correspondence with me about a month ago, and through those emails, I could see a side of her I hadn't seen before, a lively, thoughtful side--her humor really came through, and her love of language and literature, and her deep love for her family. I am so grateful I had that window into her spirit (although I did catch glimpses of it before. She always lit up around Asher, and he lit up around her, too--he always smiled and laughed when she shared Danish rhymes and songs. And of course she raised a beautiful, wise son.)

Michael has been amazing through this whole painful experience, strong and philosophical and tender, letting himself feel the whole gamut of emotions he needs to process. He feels some peace knowing his mom is at peace now, and knowing that her life ended on a high note. And like me, he is so grateful we have Asher to help us get through this time of grief. After my mom died, a friend told me that Asher was born to be a healer. It certainly feels that way now; he brings us so much joy, even in the midst of the most wrenching experiences. He was like that even before he was born--if I started to feel worried because I hadn't felt him kick for a while, he would give me a good jab, almost as if to let me know he was okay. Of course I don't want to saddle him with the burden of always being there to reassure us--he is here to walk his own path, not bolster ours. I hope it will take him to amazing, fulfilling places. He is four months old today, and has another cold, which is worrisome, but all in all, he is such a robust, thriving, happy, hilarious boy.

Michael said something today about how with our mothers gone, we have to really grow up, to become our fullest selves. A challenge I know we are up to, even though it feels a bit scary, and very sad.

Rest in peace, Jette.

good thoughts, please

There is so much I've been wanting to blog about lately--my new book (out this past Tuesday), the work we're doing on our new house before we move in, etc.--but I've just been too busy to post. Now I am popping in to ask for your good thoughts. My husband Michael's mom Jette had a heart attack this morning and is on life support now. We are reeling and numb all at once. Thank you in advance for your support (or tak, I should say, in Jette's native Danish.)

Asher

Until I have a chance to post a real blog, let me leave you with this picture Hannah took of Asher today. :)