So something seems to happen when your arms are filled with your very own human baby (if it hasn't happened already) and that thing is Instagram. So, since we have all this wonderful stuff going on, and I love to take poorly lit and badly focused photographs, I figured I'd sign up like all the other mommies do. So... follow away, if you want to see photos of my baby and random stuff. Like my shoes.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Friday, May 16, 2014
New Life.
I've been absent from this space for most of AJ's life. It wasn't intentional, and nothing is more blog-snobby then waxing poetic on how life is so busy I don't value writing and sharing anymore.
Cause it's just not true.
My brain feels full and splattered most days. I wake up that way. We've spent a few weeks at home, and due to the logistics of my in-law's house it's just easier for me to nurse the baby in the night. And very early morning. Aaron would do more if I asked him to, but it'd be in our bed if he did and I'd have to fetch the bottle and diaper caddy... and well, I might as well just nurse. Not that I mind. Side-nursing is one of my favorites things to do with her lately, so it's all very sweet. Even sweeter when we both doze off together and I get to wake up to a smiling AJ.
Not much is better than that.
So some very big changes are happening, and with that I think I should let go of "after blast warrior wife" and the tenacity of being a warrior wife. I don't have to suit up everyday and go attack and make sure my husband thrives. I don't have negotiate medications and surgeries. In fact, this year might be the first whole he goes without going under and having some part of himself cut on, up, opened, and discarded. Last year it was the throat and sinus stuff, but I think that was it. Was that it? I can't keep up anymore, and nor should I.
We're never going to be normal, but I don't have to fight anymore. We are doing the most normal thing in the world- growing a family- and even if I have to chase that normal-everyday life down with a stick and beat it into submission and drag it back to the house and lock in the garage to keep it, I will do that. I want all the normal things, even if I can't get them all the time.
Some people think it's a choice to live the way we do, or live another way. Something like that. And you know, I can't articulate our everyday anymore. It is just not in me because if anyone wants to question how and why things happen, even after all this time, then I can't do anything about it. I won't do anything about it, because I just don't care to explain it.
But I don't mind sharing, which I will continue to do. And writing. It's been one of my greatest loves since I became a literate person. I've been writing stories down since elementary school. I've been fortunate enough to have an interesting enough life (for better or horrible) that I don't have to make up characters and events much anymore, even if it is fun to do.
I won't tell you to "keep an eye out" or any of that, but don't be surprised if you come back one day and things look a little different. Sound a bit more... grounded.
Just know that you can always go home again, even if you take the long way and don't come back the same as when you left.
Cause it's just not true.
My brain feels full and splattered most days. I wake up that way. We've spent a few weeks at home, and due to the logistics of my in-law's house it's just easier for me to nurse the baby in the night. And very early morning. Aaron would do more if I asked him to, but it'd be in our bed if he did and I'd have to fetch the bottle and diaper caddy... and well, I might as well just nurse. Not that I mind. Side-nursing is one of my favorites things to do with her lately, so it's all very sweet. Even sweeter when we both doze off together and I get to wake up to a smiling AJ.
Not much is better than that.
So some very big changes are happening, and with that I think I should let go of "after blast warrior wife" and the tenacity of being a warrior wife. I don't have to suit up everyday and go attack and make sure my husband thrives. I don't have negotiate medications and surgeries. In fact, this year might be the first whole he goes without going under and having some part of himself cut on, up, opened, and discarded. Last year it was the throat and sinus stuff, but I think that was it. Was that it? I can't keep up anymore, and nor should I.
We're never going to be normal, but I don't have to fight anymore. We are doing the most normal thing in the world- growing a family- and even if I have to chase that normal-everyday life down with a stick and beat it into submission and drag it back to the house and lock in the garage to keep it, I will do that. I want all the normal things, even if I can't get them all the time.
Some people think it's a choice to live the way we do, or live another way. Something like that. And you know, I can't articulate our everyday anymore. It is just not in me because if anyone wants to question how and why things happen, even after all this time, then I can't do anything about it. I won't do anything about it, because I just don't care to explain it.
But I don't mind sharing, which I will continue to do. And writing. It's been one of my greatest loves since I became a literate person. I've been writing stories down since elementary school. I've been fortunate enough to have an interesting enough life (for better or horrible) that I don't have to make up characters and events much anymore, even if it is fun to do.
I won't tell you to "keep an eye out" or any of that, but don't be surprised if you come back one day and things look a little different. Sound a bit more... grounded.
Just know that you can always go home again, even if you take the long way and don't come back the same as when you left.
Monday, March 17, 2014
The Days.
49 days of Squishy, the world's most amazing baby EVER. Aaron and I manage to laugh everyday, and while we bicker a fair amount (that might mean a lot) but so far we get over it pretty quickly.
My favorite thing to do with her is to take a bath. I hopped in one day last week and have bathed her like that ever since. She responds really well to lounging in the bath chair and being scrubbed down, but seems to really love it when I float her around, dunk her little bum in, and splash water over her stomach. She whines when she's ready for a warm towel wrap and cuddling. She lets me do what I want, and then makes it known she has a say.
And there are the moments as a family when Aaron and I can barely stand it. The other day he had Bright Eyes playing in his bathroom, and listened to "First Day of My Life" a few times and I could hear it as we nursed and cuddled. I started crying around the middle of listen two of the song, as the lyric "I'm so glad I didn't die before I met you" came out through the door. Aaron rolled in, and we all made a sweet memory together, as a family.
Then I explained to him something I'm not sure he had ever considered before: Without him, I wouldn't have anything I have now. I wouldn't have our little family at all. Not the puppy, not the baby, not the husband. This is the family built out of injury. What we have is maybe because of what happened in September 2011. I have to thank the worst day of my life for giving me the best days of my life. I'm not grateful for Aaron's losses, but...
When I figure that out, I'll let you know. It's a give and take on a daily basis. Acceptance is not the same as moving on. I don't think "moving on" is necessarily what happens. 918 days later... but I don't count so much anymore. Not since I began counting baby. 49 days. I wish I'd figured it out sooner.
At least I figured it out now.
My favorite thing to do with her is to take a bath. I hopped in one day last week and have bathed her like that ever since. She responds really well to lounging in the bath chair and being scrubbed down, but seems to really love it when I float her around, dunk her little bum in, and splash water over her stomach. She whines when she's ready for a warm towel wrap and cuddling. She lets me do what I want, and then makes it known she has a say.
And there are the moments as a family when Aaron and I can barely stand it. The other day he had Bright Eyes playing in his bathroom, and listened to "First Day of My Life" a few times and I could hear it as we nursed and cuddled. I started crying around the middle of listen two of the song, as the lyric "I'm so glad I didn't die before I met you" came out through the door. Aaron rolled in, and we all made a sweet memory together, as a family.
Then I explained to him something I'm not sure he had ever considered before: Without him, I wouldn't have anything I have now. I wouldn't have our little family at all. Not the puppy, not the baby, not the husband. This is the family built out of injury. What we have is maybe because of what happened in September 2011. I have to thank the worst day of my life for giving me the best days of my life. I'm not grateful for Aaron's losses, but...
When I figure that out, I'll let you know. It's a give and take on a daily basis. Acceptance is not the same as moving on. I don't think "moving on" is necessarily what happens. 918 days later... but I don't count so much anymore. Not since I began counting baby. 49 days. I wish I'd figured it out sooner.
At least I figured it out now.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The Next Part.
Last spring, before I knew how much and how everything was going to change, I met with Shoulder2Shoulder to discuss shooting a short documentary. Shorts are around 15 minutes, meaning that your story needs to make an impact and follow through. At the time, it was going to be aimed at the wounded and military community. We met with and selected a director, an NYU Tisch school grad who had already established herself with her thesis short. She usually worked with narrative, but after our coffee "date" became inspired to shoot our journey, and I am so glad it worked out. Above all else, I gained a very dear friend from the experience.
So it is with glee, excitement, and a little anxiousness that I am so very thrilled to announce that The Next Part will be debuting at the 2014 Tribeca Film Festival. When we began shooting, we had no idea where it was going to go, or even what story we were going to tell. We didn't even know I was pregnant.
So if you fancy us, please follow the The Next Part facebook page and check out the website for the film.
So it is with glee, excitement, and a little anxiousness that I am so very thrilled to announce that The Next Part will be debuting at the 2014 Tribeca Film Festival. When we began shooting, we had no idea where it was going to go, or even what story we were going to tell. We didn't even know I was pregnant.
So if you fancy us, please follow the The Next Part facebook page and check out the website for the film.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Now.
The DC area is on its 532nd snow day of this winter, but we've been on an extended vacation since Aaron's last surgery in November. Retirement followed, with the holidays behind it, and then baby came end of January. So while it's been busy, we've really had nowhere to be (save for the hospital on my due date, that is). So what do we do all day?
Well, we get organized. We hold and feed and cuddle and stare at our baby. We cook. We clean a little. Nap. Stare at baby some more. I read things on babies, breastfeeding, and the news. Take pictures. Snack.
And I know this isn't a real life, and we have to start doing things here soon. School, appointments, stuff. Aaron has a better reason for taking this time than I do, considering he worked for 10 years before being in recovery for over two. He's worked harder than anyone else I know, and now he gets to enjoy his family for a bit.
But it's been hard on all of us.
And we're doing something we never even dreamed of, because when you lose a lot you don't dare hope for too many normal things.
One day, we'll be a little bit more like everyone else with jobs and school, at least things that we'll do during business hours, and we'll try to do all the chores after five and on the weekends. But for now, we are going to take this little break. We're going to cuddle like it's the end of the world. We'll let this new little human get to know us. Take pictures of a puppy sniffing a crying baby.
It doesn't have to be so difficult anymore. A lot less is going to hurt. It might not always be this way, so we'll revel in it now. Just a little bit longer.
Well, we get organized. We hold and feed and cuddle and stare at our baby. We cook. We clean a little. Nap. Stare at baby some more. I read things on babies, breastfeeding, and the news. Take pictures. Snack.
And I know this isn't a real life, and we have to start doing things here soon. School, appointments, stuff. Aaron has a better reason for taking this time than I do, considering he worked for 10 years before being in recovery for over two. He's worked harder than anyone else I know, and now he gets to enjoy his family for a bit.
But it's been hard on all of us.
And we're doing something we never even dreamed of, because when you lose a lot you don't dare hope for too many normal things.
One day, we'll be a little bit more like everyone else with jobs and school, at least things that we'll do during business hours, and we'll try to do all the chores after five and on the weekends. But for now, we are going to take this little break. We're going to cuddle like it's the end of the world. We'll let this new little human get to know us. Take pictures of a puppy sniffing a crying baby.
It doesn't have to be so difficult anymore. A lot less is going to hurt. It might not always be this way, so we'll revel in it now. Just a little bit longer.
A few weeks ago we tried a headband.
Chilling on daddy's nub.
From October 2011 to Valentine's 2014. Not even two and a half years apart. Just... unbelievable.
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