It's nice to dream...

I would love to sit down and spend an hour or more writing a long and involved post to help empty my brain, but The Dinosaur is next to me kicking her spiders. Probably not for long. So, the sole purpose of this post is to help me decide what this blog's purpose is going to be. 

(I think it's fun that the word "blog" is not in the dictionary for blogspot's spell checker thingy.)

The last thing I want to do is make it into a what I had for lunch today blog. Unless what I had for lunch was incredibly profound and had a major impact on my life. I would love to say that every post will be unbelievably well thought out and will contain lots of helpful and enjoyable links instead of just pictures of Ava. But this post alone has thrown this plan by the wayside.

I'm hoping to write enough about my current life events to have a frame of reference for the future, but I mostly just want to sort out my thoughts on virtual paper and maybe someday have one or two readers who can leave wise comments.

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It's looking more and more like we're leaving Oregon soon. Yesterday I ran some errands sans baby, and kept looking forlornly at the mountains. For a while I couldn't imagine leaving them and I wanted to call the whole thing off. 

Then I got trapped in several of our town's notoriously horribly designed parking lots and came home livid. The picture perfect mountains disappeared and I came home saying, "I hate this town!".

Spirituality, or lack thereof?

So I came to my computer while Ava (aka. The Dinosaur) naps with the intention of finally typing out her birthstory. I've been meaning to do it for a long time (well, since about 9 weeks ago, to be exact) but of course I checked my gmail first and changed my mind completely. 

Hang in there, I swear the connections from one thing to another will make sense. Right? I make sense. Yeah.

The email I received was one of those stupid forwards from a family member (actually from one of Longitude's family members...HA!) that I usually just delete. Which is a big deal, because having gmail, I archive EVERYTHING except stupid forwards. Anyway, the email was basically saying that the majority of people in America like that "In God We Trust" is on our currency and that our nation is "Under God" every morning in classrooms across the country. The email failed to mention the source of this information, but asked: why cater to the small minority who wants the god crap removed? (Okay, not a direct quote, but I think well summarized.) I was then instructed to forward the email if I agreed with it or delete it if I don't. Well, I was going to anyway, stupid Forward!!

I obviously don't agree with this, and think that this subject has nothing to do with what the majority of people are thinking, but it's unconstiutionality. That's the way America works, right? If we did what the majority of people wanted this would be a completely different (and probably much better) place. But this is all beside the point.

I am constantly being subjected to Christian culture in my daily life. God is everywhere. He even appeared talking in my ear as I was pushing my daughter out in the hospital, in the form of an obnoxious nurse's aid. At this point of the process, I was extremely focused and confident and just wanted everyone to shut up and let me concentrate. Happily, my nurse and husband figured this out just by being in the same room with me. I was almost unable to speak or really communicate anything, so they must have figured it out by body language or ESP. Unfortunately, my nurse had a back problem so she asked the nurse's aid to come hold my leg up. (No easy task, I'll give her that; I pushed for two and a half hours.) She was good at it, and this was the only reason I did not scream at her and kick her out of the room.

Her "encouragement" went something like this:

(contraction starts)

Her: You can do this because god will help you do you want me to pray for you I've gotten people who didn't believe in him to go church just by praying for him I could tell you lots of stories when this is all over...

(contraction ends)

Me: (barely audible) I don't think that's going to help right now. 

Her: (sad sigh) Don't worry, prayer will help you, I promise! 

Me: I just need someone to tell me when the contraction starts because I hurt so much I can't always feel the beginning and I don't want to miss out on any pushing time. (This might have come out completely unintelligible or only in my own head.)

(contraction starts)

Husband: Can you get out of the way of the monitor so I can see when the contraction is?

Me: Is it starting? Can I push now? I'm going to anyway.

Her: Believe in the power! Me, in head: (Of Philo) Believe in him! (my dog Philo) He knows you can do this! (Philo the dog)

(contraction ends)

Me: I really just need someone to tell me when the contraction is starting. I'm fine.

Her: (completely oblivious to my actual needs, but fulfilling her own quite well) I bet the doctor is praying for you right now, he prays for all his patients.

and so on.

I couldn't believe that I was being bombarded with this. It was the first time in my life when I felt completely unable to get away from religious crap. Even after 8 years of Catholic school with forced Mass every week, at least then I knew that I could run out the door if I had to. (Although I never would have done this because I probably would have been in big trouble.) I was practically tied down, unable to walk or control anything that was happening to me and this woman was trying to convert me! I actually felt more violated by this than by all the vagina prodding and such.

So what I say to you, supposed majority of people who want god to be on our money: you can get your own trinket of any size or shape that says "In God We Trust", even with your favorite bible verse, your name on it, what have you, and keep it in your pocket, purse, or wallet. I don't want to be forced to do so.

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This is another area where I feel that I just don't fit in. I actually feel quite at home in a Catholic church. Comfortable, even. But, I don't actually believe what I would have to believe to be an acceptable member, and I never will. Sometimes I think that maybe we could find some sort of church that actually values what we do, but most of the time I'm just glad to find spirituality in other things. 

The only problem is that church is where many people find their closest friends, do most of their socializing, and even networking. Crap. We don't fit anywhere.

From Then to Now

So where do I begin?  There is so much in my head right now I am afraid to think what might come out.  I guess the most prevalent item that is always blocking all other thoughts is what is life all about?  After a quick end of my childhood and being thrown into the real world, I thought I had a plan formulated to occupy my life.  Ever since high school I always pictured myself driving out west, with my dog in my jeep, my jeep pulling a small trailer and whatever I couldn't fit in either, wasn't meant to come with me.  My plan was to drive west, find a town to stay at for awhile, work odd jobs and move on.  Never staying too long in one spot, just living the simple life and enjoying the little things.  I always pictured myself finding a nice secluded, untouched area of wilderness and just disappearing, living off the land roaming free of restrictions and worries.  If something happened to me, the only one to be affected would be my dog. 

Looking back on it, it was a good plan.  The only thing that seemed to help me forget life was being in the wilderness, admiring the complex harmony of life and pretending I was a part of it.  I am not sure why I never took off, probably because I was not brave enough to leave those few dear friends I had.  Maybe because I never had a car that would have made it out of the state, or because I didn't have a dog.  Maybe because it seemed stupid and what was the point?  I would have just been running away and not facing my problems.  

A combination of those reasons led me to stay, go to college which gave me more insight into the world. I still felt the same inside but at least I felt like I was doing what I 'should' according to most.  I had faced many of my problems and become a better person by most accounts.  I was popular, fun, smart, able to do most anything I put my mind to but I still felt the same inside.  I could help all of my friends get through hard times, though decisions and make them feel good but I was still miserable inside.  I had thought about killing myself several times but I knew it would only hurt others.  I felt like everyone else could just enjoy life and all I could do was be alive.  I would had good times, but I always had this persistent shadow that would always remind me of my emptiness.  

I had a chance to go backpacking for 6 months on the Appalachian Trail so I immediately jumped at it.  I took a semester of college off and got my stuff ready.  I was expecting it to be the epiphany I so needed to get my life in order.  It was not.  Every day was amazing and it gave me much time to think.  It was so beautiful and simple and complex and daunting.  After a month I had come to the conclusion that I was in love.  Yes that is an epiphany but not the one I was hoping for.  Yes, the man whose plan was to drive west with his dog and live off the land was in love.  During my month on the trail, all I wanted to do was share each moment, each creek, each leaf, each sound, each smell, each breath of fresh air with this one other person.  It made me want to come steal her from the real world and bring her back to my trail world.  Back in the real world she was struggling to help me with my dream and it made me realize how special she was to endure additional misery to try and bring me some happiness. I decided to leave the trail early, and hold onto my Erin forever.  

I love Erin.  Don't get me wrong here, I would do anything for her.  Anything.  She is the fuel that keeps my fire going everyday.  Without her, I would be even more lost.  I was hoping love was the thing missing from my life. The thing that would allow me to feel like everyone else.  The thing that would end my shadow forever.  The thing that would allow me to come home after a day at the office, have a beer and be content with my life.  It is not.  I still feel lost, like I do not belong anywhere, do not have any real direction or hope.  All I seem to have is dreams.  With Erin, I do not feel alone anymore.  It is a great start but where do we go from here?  Now we are lost together.  

Ambivalence

I am torn between two courses of action, and it actually hurts.

 

Over a year ago, we moved from the only town we had known in the flattest of the flat Midwest, to a valley in the south of Oregon. Right now both Logic and Emotion pull me back home. Toward the terribly humid in summer freezing in winter nothing fun to do outside place where our friends are. It could make sense financially-lose some salary but gain some lower costs of living. Everyone we love can get to know Ava. I want to be near people who will genuinely share in our joy at her every new ability. Even though they have seen dozens of babies bat their first toy, take their first bite of applesauce, and ride their first trike, our friends and family will gush in amazement. This awes me. The fact that the new life we created can dazzle others, not just her parents.

Don’t get me wrong, there are people here who like her. Co-workers and friends who buy her things and say how cute she is, but it will never be the same. I’m confident that we could visit often enough so that she will have memories of her grandparents, uncles, and cousins, but they won’t be a part of her day to day existence.

 

So, we’ve made our decision. We’ve begun planning how to get our things into a tiny trailer, and drive two cars, two adults, one baby, one dog, and one rabbit across the country. Again. I’m in the middle of applications, phone interviews, and checking the paper for houses for rent. I yearn to be there when our next friend gets married, or one of our brothers has a baby, or any of the host of celebrations to come.

 

We also say, often, that we don’t want to have a special savings put away labeled “money to fly back for funerals”. I hate to speculate about which events are important enough to spend thousands of dollars for. Will it be your grandma? Or mine? Before we embarked on our Oregon Trail, we knew there would someday be a reason to fly back on the next plane because our grief (guilt?) was too great.

 

In April, this question was answered. We didn’t even have a decision to make. For that, I am grateful. We booked our flight and dragged my huge belly across the country knowing we had no other choice. I guess we had had about a week to speculate. “Would we go if something happened?” Too afraid to use the present tense, as if saying “when” instead of “if” would somehow change anything. I awoke on the morning of the news already knowing it was over. I had three missed calls and a few texts, which of course I did not read, hoping to delay the pain until I had at least showered.

 

Sadly, it was the best visit we’ve ever had. I felt so lucky to be there, hoping that our mere presence would say what we could never say over the phone. Just this morning I had a twinge of thought that she would be there, holding Ava, if we just drove back home next week. Of course, she won’t. Instead, she has given me a gift. Her disappearance, her (dare I say it) death, tells me I can never let this happen again. Even though we had to get out of there, even if for only a year, I can’t help but think I should have been there.

 

But, as I sit on the sand hearing waves crash, I sob inside wishing my baby could grow up here. I already miss the coast, the giant redwoods, even the wildfire smoke that chokes me if I’m outside too long. It has long been my dream. The West has been pulling since I can remember. I know that if (when?) we’re all packed up driving away, my heart will ache for this place, the only place I have known with my sweet baby girl.

And the Great Work begins...

She wakes up suddenly, behind me in her crib. I know that the tiny quacks she issues are the sounds she makes during dreams, but I go to her anyway. Her face is wrinkled into that of a tiny newborn, exactly the way she looked the first time they handed her to me.

 

Earlier, after a particularly long and satisfying meal, she puts on her “poop face”. I hold her in a sitting position for what I would consider comfort while she does her business. She hangs her head, her cheeks puff out, her eyes go glassy with concentration. She looks like an old man. Older than her father looks. I ask her if she is an old soul. “Have you been here before, baby girl?” I wonder what it was like for her in her past life, and why she’s chosen us for this one. Has she? Or is it just the luck of the draw?

 

I’d like to say that I know she won the lottery, but I can’t be sure of that yet.

 

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While I’m home with her for the last few weeks, I am renting Queer as Folk episodes. I’ve never seen the series before, and I’ve made it to season 2. I just watched the episode where Lindsay tries but fails to win her parents’ approval.  I hope that even after all the things we do or don’t do for Ava, all the experiences we accidentally give her that will ruin her or send her running to therapy in her 30s, she never has to guess as to whether we love her. Really her. The way she is meant to be.

Inaugural Blog Post

So here we go. I have no idea who I'm going to show this blog to. I'm inclined to only let strangers in cyberspace see it, but we'll see. Right now we're both just trying to figure out ourselves, hence the map jargon which I'm sure will evolve over time. And hopefully, I can convince Longitude to contribute once in a while as well. :) Thanks for reading!