My home is my safe space.

Where words of love are spoken,
like honey,
we sing songs of rain
and sunshine,
blessings on the blossom,
amen.

I live with my family,
my family lives with me,
we live together,
together live we.

When hearts
like ours
so quickly and so true
and for so long only happy and good
and connected
on levels beyond
find each other, we
do not let go.

Do not let go.

PS: I posted the twentyfirst piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

The past few weeks have done a number on my adrenals, as I’m living in a perpetual state of fight or flight. It’s exhausting, and it’s only going to get more intense as the rest of this month progresses.

My objective is to remain supremely dedicated to what’s most precious to me, my people. Keep close in times of trouble. Remember what’s truly important.

Have faith, trust in love.

I’m very ready for it to be spring, though I have a feeling it’s going to be another long six weeks of winter.

PS: I posted the twentieth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

I’ve never, ever been good at writing through pain. I’m much better at writing long after the pain has ceased. A fair weather writer, I suppose. When I lost the baby, I made the conscious effort to scribble what I could each day, despite finding myself gutted with grief. At the time, I was convinced it was the worst pain I had ever experienced.

I was wrong.

Looking back at the posts from that time is just so strange, written by a different person, living a much different life that then one in which I am currently inhabiting. I’ve never been more confused, more heartbroken, more lonely, than I am at this moment. I can’t even begin to articulate the details, there are too many of them, and they are complicated and painful and private. The next few weeks are sure to be full of new challenges and obstacles, and I’m being honest when I say I don’t know if I’m strong enough to try to chronicle this kind of journey. It hurts.

I will make an effort, but I’m not making any promises.

PS: I posted the nineteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

I was first introduced to Chip and Joanna Gaines through the Instagram feed of someone with whom I went to High School who now works as an Executive Producer on their show Fixer Upper. While I’ve never seen an episode, I’ve seen plenty of behind the scenes footage to get a general sense of their charming personalities and inspiring work ethic. Their memoir was another one of those books that happened to be stacked near the check out counter of our local library, so I grabbed it. I’m so, so glad I did.

Written in tandem, with respective typefaces, it reads almost like a conversation. She’ll offer one part of the story, and he’ll interject with his recollection, or vise versa. I enjoyed learning about their individual history, but I was really taken by their respect for one another as a couple and even more so as business partners. They quite literally built their industry together, from the ground up, and what they have managed to accomplish in a relatively short amount of time is staggering. And all while remaining true to their very strong value system.

I could easily relate to a lot of what Joanna had to say about being a working mother, and I especially appreciated how she shared that her greatest successes began to materialize once she decided to make family her central focus. She talks about surviving versus thriving, and that it’s often all in the choices we make in how we chose to react. Ultimately, the message I took away from this quick and enjoyable read was that the life of your dreams is waiting for you, if you’re willing to have faith, be patient, and work hard.

Learning more about this dynamic husband and wife team of entrepreneurs couldn’t have come at a better time as I ponder my own future and where I’d like to direct both my creative and professional energy. I’m ready to translate many of my ideas into actionable projects – thinking less and doing more, taking responsibility for what I can and letting go of the rest.

PS: I posted the eighteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

The warmth of your love
Is like the warmth of the sun
And this will be our year
Took a long time to come

And I won’t forget
The way you held me up when I was down
And I won’t forget the way you said,
“Darling I love you”
You gave me faith to go on
Now we’re there and we’ve only just begun
And this will be our year
Took a long time to come
Yeah we only just begun
Yeah this will be our year
Took a long time to come

PS: I posted the seventeenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

The site’s still not functioning. I’m barely keeping it together. But at least the sun was shining today, and my sons and I were able to dip our toes into the sea.

PS: I posted the sixteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

The third day on a row I’ve been prevented for accessing my silly little website on account of a database error….

The Year of the Rooster. Bring it.

PS: I posted the fifteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

New moon in Aquarius. The first new moon of the new year. Yes, there is a beeswax candle burning next to me, resting on an owl shaped ceramic dish, and yes, there’s a large chunk of harlequin quartz resting in my lap. Here goes.

Undoubtedly, 2016 was a death year, a year of endings. Numerologically, it was a 9 (2+0+1+6=9), which signifies the end of the cycle, completion. So, it stands to reason that 2017 would be a year of new beginnings.

But, as Seneca (and that silly Semisonic song) says, every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

Oy vey iz mir. I’ve had it with the endings!

I don’t think there’s been a single day this year that I haven’t cried, and absolutely none of those tears have been shed in joy. My heart is broken, my body is exhausted, my brain is fried. What gives, Universe?!

If Aquarius is the sign of emotions, then what am I to make of all this despair? I am trying to perceive it as a call to action – but what action, exactly? I am making an effort to consider different perspectives, but at the end of the day, I simply can’t wrap my head around most of the “alternative facts” with which I’m being presented. I disagree on a soul level, not even an intellectual level, but one where every fiber of my being cries NOOOO, THIS IS JUST WRONG.

My interpretation of all this craziness in which I currently find myself swimming is to truly, unequivocally, listen to my instincts. My gut has been with me longer than anyone, so I’m placing all my faith in myself. I will get myself through this. And I will absolutely not compromise the things I hold, have always held, as fundamental values: love, peace, respect, diversity, equality, justice, and citizenship.

As I sit quietly with my candle tonight, I will repeat the Sanskrit prayer I learned long ago when I was in Yoga Teacher Training: Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu – May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and that freedom for all.

PS: I posted the fourteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.

Six months ago, on my birthday, I could have never imagined where I’d be today, six months later. It’s been a wild ride, and I don’t think it’s over yet.

The good news is that I’m uncommonly adaptable, and unfailingly resilient. This is only going to make me stronger.

Of course, I’d prefer to not be in the middle of a storm. But if it’s going to rain, I’m going to look for the rainbows. And when it’s darkest, that’s when the stars shine their brightest.

PS: I shared the thirteenth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.